Eyes on Fire
by StormLight129
Summary: "Some people are meant to be hunted. They have done so much malice in their lives that not even Azkaban will suffice. My eyes are on fire, Mr. Malfoy, and you will be burned." What happens when Draco Malfoy is on house arrest, Hermione volunteers to guard him, and a crazy killer surfaces trying to kill them both! A story of understanding, forgiveness, mystery, and eventually love.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first fanfic, so let me know how I'm doing! Read and Review!

Dsiclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the wonderful JK Rowling does. However, the original plot and original characters are my own

Happy Reading

Chapter 1: 

Hermione Granger's eyes fluttered open. She awoke staring at the blank ceiling of her apartment. It had only been three months since the final battle, and constant activity had not yet died down. Reflecting on the war, she realized that it marked the beginning of their lives rather than the end. The Golden Trio had spent so long – practically all of their lives – fighting Voldemort and expecting that they would eventually die or worse, fail. Now that they had succeeded, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were unsure how to move on and rebuild their new lives.

She thought of those around her. The Order had become famous, with Kingsley Shacklebolt becoming the new Minister of Magic. All Order members now held some kind of high position in the Ministry, and most in Kingsley's their augmented power and success, not only did all witches and wizards know about the Order of the Phoenix, but they wanted to be a part of it as well. Since the day Voldemort fell, all Order members, specifically Harry, Ron, and Hermione were constantly followed by fans and the media. Thank goodness Hermione had gotten rid of Rita Skeeter in their 4th year at Hogwarts.

There was never a quiet moment for her anymore; only the following of what seemed to be a million flashbulbs. Harry had the worst of it. He was always followed and had recently taken to wearing his invisibility cloak wherever he went. He had gotten sick of always appearing on the front page of the Daily Prophet. They used every little thing Harry did as a headline. When Harry and Ginny were photographed walking together with angered faces one day, the headline appeared as 'War Couple Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley Over!'. They scrutinized everything he did and Harry _hated _it. Harry was also the busiest after the war. When he was not at the Ministry testifying against Death Eaters, he was being interviewed, releasing statements, and of recently heading the Order of the Phoenix. Naturally, he had been given a post at the Ministry of Magic, working in Magical Law Enforcement and close to the Minister of Magic himself. She never saw her best friend anymore. She envied Ginny, Harry's official girlfriend since the war. Ginny was madly in love with Harry and tried to be there for him when she could, but even she saw little of the famous wizard. Harry always left early and came home late. However, the couple had an understanding, and Ginny would patiently wait for him every night, knowing that he would always return to her.

Hermione shifted her gaze to the left and look at the redhead snoring beside her. They had been together ever since his lustful declaration of love for her after the war, and their relationship since had been very fast-paced. But the honeymoon period was starting to wear off. They already knew so much about each other that talking often led to the petty arguments like they had had in school. She had also been dealing with his immaturity and love for media for the past three months; it was starting to wear on her. Whenever they went out he would always stop for photo opportunities, placing a slobbery kiss on her lips as the cameras flashed away. The next day Ron would gleam at the new headline and their picture on the front-page as though the media's gossip was a great achievement. Ron was desperate for the papers' attention and Hermione was adamant to escape it. They had been in countless quarrels over Ron's obsession with the media, usually ending in Ron going home to the Burrow for a night.

"You know how much I hate it!" She would tell him with a pained expression. He would look and her and hold up the paper for her once more.

"'Mione, I can't help this stuff. It just happens! Plus, it's not like with Harry and Ginny, they never say bad stuff about us." His gaze would return to the paper, skimming over his success.

Every single argument, Hermione would softly tell Ron, "Can this please be the last time?" and almost every single time, Ron would explode with anger, calling her a hypocrite or a hermit, making fun of her strange and foreign dislike of attention.

Even when he went to the Burrow, Ron would always come back. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that he loved her, and she loved him, but she was starting to doubt if she could really be with Ron in a romantic relationship. She sighed as she looked at his sleeping form: his face was completely relaxed, free of any stress; she liked him this way.

Looking up at the ceiling once more, she thought about her life. Ever since the war, she had become a full-fledged Order member, supporting Harry and his followers in any way that she could. She had declined a position at the Ministry, still wanting some time for herself to heal and move on. However, that did not mean that she did not frequently visit the Ministry. She testified in trials for imprisoned Death Eaters, and supported claims that they had fought for Voldemort and killed members of the Order and those fighting with Harry. She had explained how Rowle and Dolohov had accosted them in the small coffee shop in London; she retold how Scarbior the Snatcher had had the three of them to the Malfoys, which had led to her eventual torture. The work she did was fulfilling, and she felt proud that she had contributed in sending these monsters to the hell of Azkaban, but it was also draining. Spending hours each day around hundreds of Dementors had left her sad and weak. She was beginning to doubt her stardom, and starting to yearn for some peace, quiet, and solidarity. With that thought, she drifted back to sleep.

oooooooooo

Draco Malfoy's attention was directed at the wall behind Kingsley Shacklebolt's head. The walls of the large office were black with magnificent gold mouldings all around the room. Father would like this room, Draco thought to himself. Malfoy paid no attention to Kingsley's deep voice droning off in the background and just kept to his thoughts. He had never actually been in the Minister of Magic's office before, even though his Father had been a respected donor to the institution.

It was a big office with high ceilings, decorated with many pictures and artefacts. His eyes rounded the room, glancing at each picture. There were many of the Order – old and new – many were also with Remus Lupin – his old Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor from third year – and many with Dumbledore. He stared at one picture for an especially long time, clearly taken in the aftermath of the war. It was of Kingsley and Harry deep in conversation. Harry's frown etched into his skin, hair matted to his forehead, and blood mixed with his sweat. Kingsley had a proud, supporting hand on Potter's shoulder, steadying the victorious boy. Hermione Granger stood next to Potter, expression dazed, holding his wrist in a vice grip. Malfoy continued to survey the room when he noticed Harry Potter sitting in a chair in the corner. Saint Potter had aged, he thought. The deep crease of his eyebrows starting to wear beneath his glasses, and the dark circles beneath his emerald eyes clued Draco Malfoy that success had not necessarily been sweet for The Boy Who Lived. His hair was still crazy and unkempt as ever he noticed, as the young man smoothed it down nervously.

"Mr. Malfoy do you understand?" Kingsley said, pulling Malfoy out of his thoughts.

A sheepish smile crept across Draco's face as he was jolted back to reality, ""Erm…Sorry could you repeat that please. I seemed to have drifted into thought."

"Until your trial before the Wizengamot Court for war crimes against the Ministry of Magic and Defenders of the Light, you will be on house arrest at 12 Grimmauld Place, being supervised by members of the Order of the Phoenix," the Minister of Magic repeated.

"Joy," the young Malfoy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You will be escorted there straight from this meeting by Mr. Potter here, who has already devised a schedule of Order Members who will watch you for a duration of one week. Your wand will be in my possession until your trial and ruling, and a small bag of your clothing has been already brought to the house. Now Mr. Malfoy, do I make myself perfectly clear when I say that if there is any reported damage to the residence or any problems with the Order Members, you will await the remaining time until you trial in the depths of Azkaban Prison. Mr. Potter has been generous enough to-"

"I think he understands, Kingsley," Potter interjected for the first time. "Now if you wouldn't mind, I would like to escort Malfoy to the safe house as soon as possible."

"I hope I have made myself clear Mr. Malfoy," Shacklebolt said standing up behind his large wooden desk.

"Crystal" Draco answered as he followed Potter to the fireplace. He stared at Harry's face as the young wizard bent down to retrieve something Draco could not see. Potter then fastened a charmed chain around the blonde's waist in order to ensure that Malfoy did not escape during travel.

"12 Grimmauld Place!" Potter shouted shouted as he threw the dust into the Minister's fireplace. Gathering Malfoy's chains in his fist, they stepped into the green flames and were gone.

ooooooooooooooo

Hermione was awakened by a soft knock on her bedroom door. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced at the clock on her nightstand – 11:47. She paused for a moment to think of what it could be. She stumbledout of bed, sliding on her robe, as the guest knocked again. Ron stirred in bed. He grunted and turned away from the door and Hermione. She opened the door to find Harry with a balled fist about to knock once more.

"Harry! What are you doing here? Is everything alright?" she whispered as she closed her bedroom door behind her small frame.

"Yeah, everything's fine," he answered, "I just dropped off Malfoy at Grimmauld. He's staying there on house arrest until his trial. That's kind of the reason I'm here…" he started.

Hermione's eyes went dark, "Harry, if you want me to testify against him, you know it won't be a problem. That ferret has never ceased to torment me, and I would love to see the look on his smug face when I send him to Azkaban, where he deserves to be!" she said, slightly raising her voice. She was starting to get flustered remembering all the times that the younger Malfoy had evilly smirked at her and called her a Mudblood. She humpfed.

"Hermione, it's not is at Grimmauld Place because I persuaded Kinglsey to let him stay there. Neville is there with him until the end of the week, but I need more Order members supervise him. I would never ask you to do this, I know how much you hated him, but I really have no one else to ask…could you stay with him next week? " Harry started to flinch at the end of his sentence awaiting Hermione's anger.

"I have my conditions." She answered. Harry gaped – that had not been the answer he was anticipating. It sounded as though she was actually considering it. "I am doing this as a favour to _you_ Harry, and if he steps one toe out of line I reserve the right to defend myself." She said.

"Of course. I wouldn't want it any other way! Kingsley warned him about that too, threatened him with Azkaban! From what Neville's reported, he's stayed in his room except to come down and get his food."

Hermione processed what he had just told him, but looked up with a confused stare, "Harry, if Kingsley is threatening him with Azkaban, then why isn't he there already? He's a war criminal who you've wanted to hex since you were 11!"

Harry sputtered, he had not been expecting that question, "I don't know Hermione, some Order Members think that he could help a little before we send him away," he lied, "But this little ferret shouldn't be a problem for the brightest witch of our age!" Harry ended with a smile.

Hermione started to blush but saw straight through his lie, "Oh, stop Harry! I know you're lying. Why isn't he in Azkaban?" Harry looked down at his feet embarrassed; that taught him for attempting to deceive his best friend.

"I just don't think he should be there just yet. I want to give him some time…for observation." He said awkwardly. He knew he owed the truth to Hermione, no matter how uncomfortable he felt about it. He lifted his eyes to look at Hermione deep in thought. Her eyes were narrowed and she had brought her right hand to her face as though she were kissing her knuckles.

"I'll do it because I trust your judgment Harry, " she said finally, turning her attention back to him, "But I'm glad you stopped by, even if it was on a Saturday morning. How have you been doing?" Her face became serious all of the sudden.

"I've been busy, as usual. Kingsley has loaded me with Ministry stuff, and I still have the Order to attend to. But I've been managing. Ginny and I are going on holiday this weekend…to get away for a bit. I need a rest." He answered as he leaned against Hermione's kitchen counter.

"That's great Harry! If anyone deserves a rest it's you!" She smiled at him warmly. She was honestly happy that – for a change – he was finally doing something for himself. "I really don't want to keep you Harry; I know you're busy. Just owl me the details for next week, and I'll be there! Enjoy you trip with Gin. Tell her say hello!" She replied. He grinned back at her. Hermione really did consider Harry her best friend. They understood each other so well.

"Thanks, I knew I could count on you 'Mione. Tell Ron I say hello as well." he as he lifted himself from the counter and started walking towards her fireplace. They hugged goodbye and Harry turned, flooing on to his next appointment. Hermione stood watching the empty fireplace, thinking about how Harry had changed. He was thinner and his skin more pallid, making the scars he had received over the years more apparent. He looked stressed and tired, as though he had not slept well for days. But she knew that this short vacation would be just the thing to bring him back, even if Ginny had forced him into it.

oooooooo

All Draco Malfoy could do was sleep. When he was not sleeping he was staring at the dark, boarded ceiling in his room. When he decided that he would get out of bed, he would pace the circumference of the room, sometimes stopping by the window, or counting how many steps it took to walk around the room or how many boards he stepped on. The rest of the time he was a prisoner to his thoughts.

Malfoy thought about many things. He thought about the war, about the Dark and the Light. He thought of how scared he was during the war, how his heart hurt as he saw his friends and classmates fall on both sides of the fight. He thought about the utter silence after the Dark Lord fell. Potter had just stood there. He remembered his father as his hand has gripped Draco's and he had swayed. He looked at his Dark Mark: it was slowly beginning to fade, though he knew it would never fully disappear. He gently traced the edges of the Mark, not daring to touch it. He remembered the feeling of it burning through his sixth and seventh year. He was glad that it had not burned him for three months now.

He thought about school. He remembered his jokes with Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Blaise. He recalled their late nights roaming the hallways of Hogwarts causing trouble and talking about girls. He thought about his first kiss 2nd year with Pansy Parkinson. He smiled as he remembered the dark purple love bite she left on his pale, inexperienced neck, and how his friends had laughed when they had seen. He remembered his school years quite fondly.

He thought about his family. He thought about the death of his Mother, killed by her own sister Bellatrix. He thought about that a lot. He blamed himself for the death of his mother. She had been looking for him when Bellatrix found her. Bellatrix, the psychotic devil that she was, had assumed she was trying to escape and threw a killing curse straight into her own sister's back. If Draco had not been in the Room of Requirement and fighting on the grounds, Narcissa would have never been looking for her son, and Bellatrix would have never killed her. He remembered the pain that radiated throughout his body as he carried her lifeless corpse. It had been more painful that any of the Cruciatus Curses his father or the Dark Lord could throw at him combined.

He thought about his father, Lucius. How he must be faring in the depths of Azkaban. He too had been shaken by the loss of his wife, but even more so by the loss of his Lord. Lucius had gone mad and completely receded into himself. He had barely said a word to Draco as he was carried off to Azkaban two months earlier. The eldest Malfoy had only mumbled a phrase, with a slight inclination of pitch at the end, as if his father was asking him a question or beckoning his son to join him. It was a sound that Draco had heard countless times throughout his life, "Draco".

ooooooooo

Ron Weasley practically pranced out of the jewellery store on Tuesday afternoon after he had finished at the Ministry of Magic. He eyed the tiny ring in its small box. He was so proud of himself. The ring was a simple one – he knew it would be perfect for Hermione. The goblin-made silver band was thin and shiny, and was covered with small and precious engravings that seemed to bloom over and over again. At the top of the band was a modest but still beautiful diamond stone flanked by two smaller ones. He had really chosen well, hopefully she would be blown off her feet and would answer 'Yes' to his question.

Ron knew he was to marry Hermione. He wasn't sure when he was going to do it – maybe even waiting one or two more months – but he knew he would eventually do it. And hoped – no he knew – that she would say yes.

Their relationship since the war had been a good one in his eyes, plus or minus a few arguments. They had lustfully kissed during the war, and the rest was history. He didn't want to let her go, and she was madly in love with him. He remembered the first time they were intimate. He assumed it had been Hermione's first time, and felt proud that he could welcome her into the lovely world of sex like Lavender had done for him his sixth year. He had never really had many partners in bed, but he considered himself a good partner. He tried to be gentle, placing sweet and short kisses on her neck and mouth. Hermione was a quiet lover, he remarked, she was never loud when they were intimate, she never loved being the centre of attention like he did. But didn't the Muggles have saying like 'Opposites always attract'?

He thought about their lives after the war. They were so much better together. Hermione had bought a flat shortly outside of London, and had completely revamped her image. Ron did not mind, as he quite enjoyed men drooling over his girlfriend whenever they went out. Instead of the boring jumpers and loose jeans she had wore at Hogwarts, Hermione started to sport skinny jeans, fitting shirts, and many more dresses. She had even taken to wearing incredibly high heels. He had moved in with Hermione, shortly after she had bought the apartment, even though he still returned to the Burrow at least three times a week. He had also tried to change himself, getting a hair cut and buying some proper wizarding dress robes. He had even bought himself a dapper Muggle suit.

As he walked through Diagon Alley, he let himself calm slightly. He wanted to be with Hermione for the rest of his life. As they aged together, they would get over each other's imperfections. Like how Hermione always had to work or read something; like she always talked about the war and never about what he wanted to talk about; like how she would scream at him after he kissed her passionately for the cameras. Yes, they would learn to live their lives intertwined. It was their destiny!

He smiled to himself as he reached the apparition point, and spun on the spot back to Hermione's apartment. He reached into his pocket and held the small, little box in his hand; he wasn't going to lose that.

oooooooooo

The days of the week passed rather quickly from Hermione's point of view. She had informed Ron of her assignment on Tuesday, leaving out the detail that she would be babysitting Malfoy. Ron had never liked Draco Malfoy, or any Malfoy for that matter. She assumed that it had something to do with their families' rivalry. She knew that would end badly. It was now Friday, and Harry had owled her the night before, informing her that she needed to be at Grimmauld Place by noon on Sunday. She sat at her small dining table, with her agenda and small bits of parchment, making sure that all her appointments for the week had been taken care of. Just then Ron walked out of her fireplace with a toothy grin plastered across his face. He approached the table, bent down, and gave Hermione a sweet, chaste kiss.

"What was that for?" She questioned with a smile on her face.

"I'm taking you out tonight!" He exclaimed, "Harry and Gin are going on vacation to relax, so I figured why I don't I take you out for a nice relaxing and romantic evening before your week away." He grinned broadly at his plan and awaited Hermione's approval.

"That sounds wonderful Ronald," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his bottom lip.

"Perhaps we can have a small taste of this romantic activity before we leave?" he asked with a wolfish grin and winked at her.

Hermione laughed and lightly slapped his arm, "Ron, I have to work!" she whined as his lips lowered to her neck.

"Fine! I know you'll appreciate tonight." He said squeezing her slightly, "Now finish your work, we're leaving in 45 minutes." He boomed over his shoulder as he stepped into the bathroom, towel in hand. Hermione wondered where all the time had gone, but did not protest. She closed her agenda, sent the last memos, and headed to her bedroom. She changed into a simple floral dress with modest, nude heels. Something she knew Ron would love. 45 minutes flew by and before she knew it, Ron grasped her hand and guided her out the front door onto the sidewalk. Hermione instantly regretted it. Before she could protest, flashbulbs erupted and reporters screamed – asking them their plans, how their relationship was going, and if they had heard from Harry. Ron stopped, still grasping Hermione's hand firmly, to talk to the reporters.

"Everything is going great! We're off to a quiet dinner for two before 'Mione here leaves for a week on business. Harry is fine by the way. He and my sister, Ginny, are away on holiday as well." The reporters shouted even louder. Wanting to know where they were eating, where Harry and Ginny had gone, and if either couple was getting married. Feeding off their excitement, Ron turned to Hermione. "Hopefully soon!" he boomed. Hermione throat went dry as Ron lowered himself on one knee and reached into the pants pocket. The flash of the cameras was deafening. "What do you say Hermione? Will you do me the great honour of being my wife?"

Hermione gasped, "Ronald, I can't do this. Not here."

"What did you say darling?" he answered, reaching for her other hand.

"I said I can't do this." She repeated, taking her hands out of his, pulling herself out of his grasp. His smile faded quickly and was replaced by an immediate reddening of his face and ears.

"What?" he whispered harshly. "I thought you wanted this. I thought you would have said yes!" he was raising his voice. His anger was beginning to become more and more apparent. The reporters were practically foaming at the mouth, flashbulbs starting to blind Hermione.

"Ronald, can we please talk about this inside, away from the media," she pleaded as she tried to lead him back inside. Warm tears were stinging her eyes; she really didn't want to lose her cool. She would not succumb to the infuriating photographers.

"NO! I can't believe you ever do this to me! And in front of the fucking cameras? You're low! You're fucking sick! You…you…you BITCH Hermione!" He screamed at her, shoving her back so that she almost fell onto the steps. And with that, Ron dissapparated on the spot, leaving Hermione sniffling and disoriented in front of hundreds of flashing cameras.


	2. Chapter 2

What do you think of Ron? How about Draco? Read and Review!

Chapter 2: 

Hermione was numb.

"Ms. Granger, is this an official break up with Mr. Weasley?"

"Hermione, how do you react to Ron's proposal?"

"Miss Granger, are you going to go after him?"

"Hermione, how do you respond to Ron Weasley calling you a bitch?"

Hermione snapped back to reality. She walked back into her apartment building, closed the door, and collapsed against it, sobbing.

oooooooooooooo

Neville Longbottom sat down at the table and unfolded the Daily Prophet. "POST-WAR POWER COUPLE OVER!" it read. Neville read on. He read about Ron's romantic and impromptu proposal to Hermione and her breakdown. He smirked as he read on, "The young Miss Granger's eye twitched as she yanked her hands from the poor and affectionate Mr. Weasley's hands." Neville chuckled; the media really had it out for Hermione. Poor girl was probably crying over this front-page article this very moment. Dismissing the issue, Longbottom focused at the matters at hand. He was leaving tomorrow, meaning a new Order Member would come to fill his place. Harry had owled him Thursday night to let him know that Hermione would arrive at noon on Sunday. It was Saturday afternoon and Neville wondered if Hermione would show. Surely Harry knew what was going on right? Worry seeped into his gut as he wondered whether he would be spending another week with the active and charming Mr. Malfoy.

Neville climbed the stairs up to Malfoy's room with a plate of steaming food. Malfoy barely left his room anymore. Just to get his food, drink, and a bathroom break if needed. Neville wondered why Malfoy was even at Grimmauld Place. When he had asked Harry a week ago, he had answered that the Order wanted to keep Malfoy for '_further observation_' but Neville could tell Harry was hiding something. He had decided not to push Harry; he knew he was still under a lot of stress and pressure. There was some sort of reason for everything Harry did.

But Longbottom could not help but feel bad for Malfoy. He was awaiting trial, which would surely put him in Azkaban for the rest of his life, spending that time in a house with all his enemies from school. No one liked him and rarely spoke to him. The man must be miserable, Neville thought. He might have been miserable, but he still deserved it. Malfoy was the reason why Dumbledore was dead; the reason why Voldemort had taken over Hogwarts. Malfoy was the reason that he and his classmates had suffered their last year at Hogwarts. It could have been a happy one, but instead it was filled with beatings and bruises. However, without Malfoy, Neville would have never developed the courage he did in that last year of Hogwarts. Neville was a war hero now!

He arrived at the door and knocked softly, "Malfoy, its Neville. I have food and I need to talk to you." He stood there patiently hearing shuffling around the room. The door opened and a very pale and exhausted Malfoy stood in the doorframe in his black boxers and a worn t-shirt. Neville eyed the tall blonde. He looked terrible. He had lost colour and was practically transparent except for the dark purple bags underneath his grey eyes. His eyes were unseeing and unadjusted to the light, as though the young wizard had just awoken. His white blonde hair was dishevelled and not combed back as Longbottom was used to. Neville wondered if Malfoy ever got like this at school; had his roommates seen him like this? He was snapped out of his thoughts when the ghostly man in front of him spoke.

"Yes, Longbottom?" Malfoy finally answered with a hidden sarcastic tone. Draco showed no emotion at all. He stood tall in the doorway, looking at Longbottom, face hard as stone.

"Well, I brought you food," Neville stuttered, he had never really gotten over his schoolboy fear of Draco Malfoy, "and I want to tell you that a week has gone by, and I'll be leaving tomorrow. Hermione Granger will be here for the next week." He watched as a smirk crept across Malfoy's pale face.

"Ahh, my darling friend Granger, how is she these days?" He asked with a chuckle. Neville noted that this had been the first time he had seen the young Malfoy display any type of emotion whatsoever.

"You can ask her yourself when she arrives tomorrow at noon," Neville answered as he handed Malfoy his food tray. Malfoy accepted it and receded into his dark room once more. The door shut with a small click, and Neville turned and descended the stairs

back to the kitchen.

ooooooooooo

Ron sat at the Burrow's kitchen table as his plump mother busied herself around him. He was livid. He had of course told his mother what had happened as soon as he had arrived to the Burrow, and had now just read the article in the Daily Prophet. He skimmed the article once more, picking at the fragile edge of the grey newspaper.

"Stop that Ronald" his mother chastised. He leaned back in his chair as she placed a steaming plate of delicious food in front of him and sat directly adjacent to him, "Ronald, are you sure you didn't overreact? I just know that she loves you!"

"Obviously not, Mum! She left me in front of all those reporters, HUMILIATED ME! Do you know how long I had planned that?" he answered getting more and more angry by the second. The truth was that Ron actually had not planned any of it, and the entire proposal had been completely spur of the moment. The only reason he'd actually done it was because of the photographer's question and the small box in his pocket.

"Yes, Ronald, that's how most people see it. That's how the Prophet sees it," she said pointing to the picture of Hermione pulling her hands out of Ron's, "But had you ever thought about _her_, about how this article would affect _her_, about how your proposal would affect _her_?" she gave him a sorry look as his cheeks and ears started to redden, "Ronald, I love you very much, but you are in a relationship now. With a wonderful and strong woman may I remind you! A relationship is not a one way street, it goes both ways."

"But I do think about her Mum, all the time! All I want to do is make her happy!" he looked down at his hands shyly, "But sometimes I'm not really sure what she wants anymore. She's changing, Mum. Right before my eyes."

Ron closed his eyes and tried to relax as he felt his mother reach across the table and squeeze his hand to comfort him. He thought back on he and Hermione's short 3-month relationship. But it had been so much longer than that, right? He had had 'more than best friend feelings' since third year, but had never done anything about them. It was not until seventh year that they reached a consensus that they both liked each other, but did not express it until the war. He smirked, Harry had known all along. He wondered what Harry would think of the Prophet article, what he would think of their break up. He was the main part of the Golden Trio; what if Hermione and Ron were never to speak again? Ron huffed; he was thinking about it too much. There was nothing he could do. She had said no to him to his face and to the media.

He changed his focus to look at the warm food in his plate. He really did love being home. His mother was _by far_ the best cook in all of England. He swallowed his worries as he started to gulp down his mum's cooking. She always knew how to make him feel better.

oooooooooooo

Hermione sighed. She looked at herself in the steamy bathroom mirror. A shower had been just what she had needed. After the drama of Friday night and repercussions of Saturday morning, Hermione was spent. Friday had been a blur, and she would have still been down in the apartment building foyer if her old neighbour, had not picked her sloppy, crying arse off the floor and taken her back to her own door. Hermione had fallen asleep on her couch, crying herself into a fitful sleep. Saturday, she had woken up on the floor. As the memories of the night before flooded into her head she started to cry once more. She sat up, silent tears streaking her face, and started to scream. She briefly stopped to assure her old, caring neighbour that nothing was wrong, but quickly resumed as she read the front-page headline of the Daily Prophet. "Damn him! Damn the media!" She screamed. She shouted and stomped around her flat for what seemed hours. She had never been so mad in her life. How dare he disgrace her name! How dare he insult and humiliate her like that! Eventually, her shouts and screams transformed in stifled sobs as she nursed a bottle of white wine. Sufficiently drunk, Hermione had fallen sleep on her couch. Waking up this morning, she had taken a long, hot shower in effort to release all her stress and tension. And here she stood, looking at herself, puffy and red-eyed in the mirror, hair matted around her delicate neck.

God, the witch thought, I really am a mess. She sighed again as she started to cry once more. Why had Ron done that to her? He surely knew she would never have done that in front of the media! She hoped that her best friend turned boyfriend knew her better than that! Hermione was angry. She was angry with Ron for surprising her like that. She was especially angry at the papers and photographers, who instigated Ronald's madness. They could be so crazy and demanding. Of course, they knew Ron's love for attention, and thrived and manipulated it. But Hermione was angriest with herself for letting this petty drama get to her. She was bigger than this. She had handled the stress of the war, and now look at her!

She wiped her tears and got dressed. She pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and light pink jumper, and slid into her shoes. She arranged the clothes on her bed as she prepared for her week in Grimmauld Place. She figured that this would be more of a vacation with no need to dress up for any reason, so she pulled out her old and comfortable clothes, leaving her new chic ones behind. Books to go along with her were piled high on her nightstand; she figured she could read all of them in a week. She walked into her bathroom, gathering her toiletries. She looked in the mirror once more, casting a drying and smoothing charm over her soft, golden hair. She had begun to take better care of her hair since fourth year, and it had gotten tamer as the years passed. It still got frizzy sometimes, but it was usually long and smooth. Her almond eyes were blotchy and red, but there was no charm to get rid of those. She sniffled as she performed the simple extendable charm on her small bag, and started to pack in her clothes, books, and toiletries. Moving out of her bedroom and towards the fireplace, she grabbed her small, light bag, and stepped into the fireplace.

"12 Grimmauld Place" she said clearly as the green flames swallowed her.

oooooooooooo

Draco Malfoy gazed out of the window in his room – it was bleak and overcast. He watched the Muggles walking around outside in their summer jackets, talking animatedly. He desperately longed to be outside, to feel the sun warming his cheeks and the wind rustling his hair. He wished he could fly again, feeling his stomach drop as he swooped down. He watched as the family walked past the window, children running out in front of their parents cheering and laughing. Malfoy frowned. With his trial and imminent conviction approaching, chances for a family were slim to none.

Draco wondered what he would be like with a family. Would he be like his father? Would he be strict and firm like Lucius was? Would he beat his children as he had been by the older Malfoy? What kind of husband would he be? Would he be kind, gentle, and caring or would he be detached and absent? Draco closed his eyes, suppressing the memories of countless Crucios he had watched and endured. He hoped not. But he would never have the opportunity. He was going to rot in Azkaban.

The young blonde sighed. He was probably going to be the youngest prisoner in Azkaban history at the tender age of 18. Why had he been so stupid as to follow his father and the Dark Lord and receive the mark? None of his friends had gotten it, and had stayed away from the Dark Lord and his allure as long as they could. Of course, at the time he had felt dangerous, unique, and powerful. Why had Draco been so goddamned thickheaded? His father's ideas and those of the Dark Lord had clearly not helped him. What was a Mudblood? A half-blood? A Squib? Were they really that different? What the fuck did blood have to do with it anyway? He now questioned what was right. He didn't know who he was anymore. The youngest Malfoy sighed once more and lay back on his bed closing his eyes in thought.

ooooooooooo

Neville sat once again at the kitchen table at 12 Grimmauld Place. It was 11:58. His bag was packed, Malfoy knew he was leaving; he just sat waiting for Hermione to step through the fireplace. As though he had done wandless magic, the fireplace started to rumble and Hermione stepped out, brushing ash off herself.

"Neville! It's so good to see you! How are you doing?" She said happily, smiling at him. Longbottom noticed her eyes were red and swollen, even though she was standing, grinning right in front of him. Clearly her weekend had not been the best.

"I'm good Hermione. Just keeping up with work and the Order as usual. Off to visit Grandmother for a few days before going back to the Ministry." He replied. He slowly approached Hermione, "But I should really be asking you how you're doing."

Hermione grimaced. Why did everyone have to read the bloody Daily Prophet? "I'm alright, I'm managing. I guess I'm just very confused right now." She felt as though she was about to cry when Neville scooped her up into a big bear hug. She melted into him releasing the sob she had been keeping in since he had mentioned her weekend. His arms tightened around her slight frame. Neville had always found Hermione attractive, but had always been afraid to mention it to her. Since their fourth year, all of Gryffindor knew that Ron and Hermione would be together. Perhaps now that Hermione and Ron had ended their relationship, he had a chance. But no, he would be there to support Hermione in her time of need, nothing more.

"It's alright 'Mione. It'll pass, and I'm here for you, you know that" He rubbed Hermione's back, trying to comfort the now crying witch. He released her slowly, still grasping her shoulders. "I really need to go. But Malfoy is upstairs in Regulus' old room. He only emerges for food, water, and hygiene so please don't worry about him 'Mione. Your old room is all ready for you." He squeezed her shoulders once and let go, grabbing his things and heading towards the large fireplace.

"Thanks Neville. That really means a lot. Have a wonderful time visiting your Grandmother. Please send her my love." Hermione smiled at him as she wiped her tears away from her face. He smiled back and turned, disappearing into the fireplace. Hermione moved towards the table and sat down, letting her head fall into her hands.

"Get a hold of yourself woman!" she muttered.

oooooooooooo

When Draco woke up again, it was dark outside. His stomach grumbled. He looked at his watch and smirked. 7 PM. Granger was here. He got out of bed put on a loose jumper over his chequered pyjama bottoms. He slowly turned the handle to his door and stepped outside of his room. He looked both ways, as though a broom was about to whiz by. He quietly descended to the stairs and peeked into the kitchen. Hermione Granger sat at the kitchen table, eyes closed rubbing her temples. Draco watched her from the doorframe. The line between her eyebrows was creased and she softly bit her lower lip. Her eyes were puffy and red, and bags were starting to form under them. Her cheeks were blotched with tears. She seemed distressed to him. He smirked – an easy target.

He gazed to the pile of Daily Prophets in the corner of the kitchen; he recognized her face on the front cover. Draco Malfoy's smirk widened. "Granger, my old pal," he said still smirking from the doorway. She snapped out of her trance to look at him. "It's been a few months hasn't it Granger?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Malfoy, I'm really not in the mood to deal with you right now." She answered leaning back in her chair to look at him.

"Why Granger? Weasel-bee got your knickers in a twist?" He asked glancing down at the front page of the Daily Prophet in his hand. Hermione gulped quite visibly as if she were trying to swallow down the insults and anger she was about to lash at him. Malfoy smirked, knowing he had hit a nerve. "What is it Granger? He dump you for someone else…or do you have your sights on Potter now?"

"SHUT UP MALFOY!" she screamed, standing up so abruptly that her chair fell backwards onto the kitchen floor with a smack, "You know nothing about what's been happening between Ronald and I. You have NO business asking me about it." She shouted, making an effort to control herself. Her nostrils were flaring and she was growing redder by the second. Malfoy knew exactly how to push her; how to make her explode.

"Well then, tell me what it is, witch! From what I read, I hear you dumped Weasel quite publicly. I may just have to read on to find out!" he looked down at the paper, seeming extremely fascinated by the article about her relationship blunder. Malfoy had little time to react before Hermione launched herself at him, jumping clear across the table and tackling him to the floor.

"DO NOT read that trash! It's a load of bullshit, what else do you expect." She exclaimed, ripping the paper from his hands.

"Granger, I think I get it now." He paused for emphasis. This was going to sink her, "You dumped Weasley in front of the media so that you could set your sights on someone better…someone _purer_…like myself." He looked up at Hermione, straddling his lounging form, and smirked, "I thought you would be able to restrain yourself for at least a few days."

That did it. Hermione slapped him hard. He exhaled out of his nose, putting the stinging pain behind him; he wanted to cherish this moment. She pushed herself off of him, and towered over his lying figure. "I would NEVER touch you EVER! The fact that you even suggest such a thing makes me want to VOMIT!" she was screaming now, "And you even have the INKLING of thought that I would EVER leave Ronald for YOU, you are seriously mistaken and should probably just Avada yourself right now. I may even do it for you!" She distanced herself from him, as if she may actually pull out her wand and kill him. "I didn't want to break up with him, he did it all wrong! I just couldn't answer his question in front of cameras." She continued, her voice softening a bit.

"What question Granger, did he ask you to comb your hair?" he fired back.

"No you IMBECILE, he asked me to _marry_ him. And I couldn't answer, I just sat there like a bumbling idiot." She trailed off as she slid into her chair and let her head fall into her hands. She looked down for a long while. Draco just sat on the floor watching her, not making a sound. He got up from the floor and circled the kitchen table. Was she crying? She let out a stifled sob, and Draco jumped at the opportunity.

"Are you CRYING Granger?" he laughed at her. "Are you really CRYING over Weasel-King?" he stood up and started to laugh harder. "I can't believe this! Mudblood Granger is crying!"

"NO SHIT I'M CRYING YOU ARSE!" she screamed, looking up at him with a pained and angry face. Tears streamed down her red and hot cheeks. "I may have just ruined the best thing I've had my enter life…and for good." Draco immediately felt sorry for her. Not only did she think that Weasley was the best thing that had happened to her, but she also was crying because she thought she had lost him. He could visibly see the pain and grief in her face as she cried openly in front of him. She directed her gaze at him once more, she said, "And call me Mudblood one more time and you'll be in Azkaban with your father." Malfoy's muscled clenched. That was not happening. He would rather die than go there with or without a conviction. He would rather live with Mudblood Granger than go to Azkaban!

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure on how to respond, "Uhhh…right. Sorry and erm..I'll leave now. Goodnight." He finished awkwardly and walked out of the room. Hermione sat there confused, not knowing what to think of Malfoy's weird apology. He's just covering his arse, thought Hermione. She wiped her eyes and looked down at the Daily Prophet she still grasped in her hand, the picture of her pulling her hands out of Ron's replaying over and over.

She grabbed a small piece of parchment and quill from her bag and sat at the table once more. She stared at the parchment for a long time. After sitting idly in thought for about 15 minutes, she picked up the quill and started to write,"

_"Dear Ronald,"_


	3. Chapter 3

What do you think about Hermione's feelings about Ron? Read and Review

Chapter 3:

Malfoy descended the stairs as quietly as he could. He had already angered Granger enough that night; he was not going to start another battle. He winced as the last step creaked loudly. He stepped into the kitchen and was surprised by the sight. Hermione was asleep, her head leaning against her arms folded on the table, mess of hair spreading across the table. Draco smirked; this was such typical Granger, falling asleep at her desk at three in the morning. But he couldn't help but feel bad for her. Her face was strained and her eyebrows creased as though she was deep in thought. He could tell that her sleep was not a calm and pleasant one. He approached the table, planning on carrying her small body up to her room, but something else caught his attention. A small piece of parchment rested underneath Hermione's sleeping hand. Intrigued, he started to read the small parchment and realized it was a letter. Gingerly moving her hand, he sat down and started to read.

"_Dear Ronald,_

_ I understand that I am the last person that you want to hear from right now, but I have to write this out, to get this off my chest. I want you to know how upset and sad I have been these past few days; it's very strange not being on good terms with you. I haven't been this upset since that time you left the forest last year. _

_But I also want you to know that I am not sorry for the way I reacted. You have no right to asking me to marry you in front of the media, something you know I detest very much. You know me better than this Ron; you know that I like it when it's just you and me. I am a homebody, not a media star. I was very hurt by your impromptu and public proposal, and also for your reaction. Ron, you really should not have started screaming at me in front of them. _

_I am also quite upset with you right now. You have no right, even when I am in the wrong or when I hurt you to say to me what you did…and especially in front of the cameras. I understand that you were upset, but I thought you respected me and loved me, and didn't think of me as a bitch like the rest of the world seems to. _

_Finally Ronald, I think we should take some time, both of us. Perhaps this week will be wonderful for us to be separate, to think about our relationship. If you want more time, I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind letting me stay here and continue my assignment. But for now, my assignment ends Sunday at seven, and I would love if you could come pick me up. We can talk then._

_With love, _

_ Hermione"_

Draco stared down at Granger. Her letter was so much like her personality: intellectual, reasonable, and outspoken. Malfoy smirked and raised himself from his chair. He could see Weasley reading it now: his ears turning red at he gripped the ends of the paper roughly. He would finish reading it and probably crumple it up and stomp around his cardboard box of a house, crying to his mum. Slowly approaching Granger, he tapped her shoulder. Her face immediately scrunched up as she let out a groan. His mind went to his mother, asleep in her reading chair. She would stretch and yawn, and then ask Draco to walk her to her quarters. He couldn't attack Granger now, she was so innocent with her guard down. He almost felt sympathetic for her squinted her eyes again, trying to block out the light. Old Draco would have never paid attention to her, he would have left her, maybe even drawn on her or jinxed her. He swallowed dryly and did the only thing that came to his mind, the same thing he would have done for his mother, "Granger, you fell asleep at the table, would you like me to take you to your room?" he asked

oooooooooo

"Malfoy?" Hermione mumbled as she lifted her head and opened her eyes. Her neck was terribly stiff and the light was burning her eyes. She looked up at the tall blonde standing next to her.

"Do you want me to take you back to your room? You fell asleep at the table," he repeated softly.

Hermione nodded slowly. She had never seen this Malfoy. He was always hard, emotionless, and had never spoken to her in that soft of a tone. She observed his face quizzically as his strong arms picked her up and brought her towards his chest, he had not been sleeping well. His skin was pale, and the circles under his eyes had gotten very dark. She continued to observe his face, which did not sport a sneer or a smirk, but was rather calm. She couldn't believe he was touching – no _carrying_ – her and not even grimacing! She was Muggle-born – a Mudblood in his eyes – and he was _touching _her. Wasn't he worried that he would get some kind of infection? He looked forward, up the stairs, not looking down at her. The suspense was killing her; she had to know. She finally spoke, "Malfoy what are you doing awake?"

His gaze shifted down to her, "I was hungry; you never made dinner." He paused, "Granger did you eat?" His silver eyes suddenly flashed with a look of concern, but a millisecond later, returned to their natural, dark state.

"What's it to you?" She answered harshly as she lowered her gaze to look at his chest. "I'm tired now." Malfoy set her down as she opened the door to her room. She looked back up at him and he looked down at her. She had always known that Malfoy's eyes were grey, almost silver, but had never realized how bright they really were. "Goodnight Malfoy," she said break her stare and slinking into her room, letting her door close with a click. After she felt her door close behind her, she removed her jeans, and climbed into bed. She stared at the ceiling thinking about what had just happened. The Malfoy she thought she knew in school would have never done that for her. Hell, Ron wouldn't have done that for her! He would have left her at the table, ate his midnight snack, and would have climbed back into bed, _her _bed. She would have expected Malfoy to act the same, if not worse, perhaps drawing obscene things on her arms, or writing _Mudblood_ across her forehead. But he hadn't. He had been a gentleman and carried her up stairs. Maybe he had changed, she thought. Maybe he wasn't truly a git after all.

oooooooooo

"Goodnight Granger" Draco answered as she moved into her room. He turned and started to walk back into his room. His hunger was gone, replaced with a very confused feeling like butterflies fluttering around in his abdomen. What just happened? What had he just done? He fell back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Granger had changed. Granted, she was still the Gryffindor Princess, school bookworm, and pompous war hero, but something was different about her.

He couldn't quite understand how she had changed, but she was not the same Mudblood Granger. For one, she no longer tolerated his bigoted language; she had stood up to him earlier today. Her hair was tamer. Draco assumed that because of her new fame, she had started to take care of her looks. Her figure was a small one, one that may seemed to have gotten smaller since he had last seen her three months ago. She had also started to wear more appealing and fashionable clothes. Instead of the worn flair jeans she had worn on weekends during school, she sported skinny jeans and fitted jumpers. He recalled her pictures from the Daily Prophet, of her taking her hands out of Weasley's. She had worn a dress and heels, something he hadn't seen her in since fourth year. Hermione Granger really wasn't that bad, he thought to himself. She could even be attractive.

He smirked – Damn; cabin fever was really starting to get to him.

oooooooooo

Hermione awoke late – 11. She noticed that Malfoy had not yet awoken. Good, she thought, this left some time to herself to think about the complicated events of last night. First, she had had an argument with the captive and moody Draco Malfoy, then she had written a letter to Ron, and finally Malfoy had carried up to her room after she had fallen asleep at the table. Frustrated, she blew a strand of stray hair out of her face and sat down at the table, staring at Ron's letter.

After rereading it a few more times, she finally stood and went to the window. She opened it and allowed Harry's new owl Poppy to enter. She hooted gleefully as Hermione stroked her beak and gave her a small treat. Poppy was the same colour as Hedwig had been – snow white – but Poppy was a lot larger and more powerful than Hedwig. She had to be; Poppy was constantly flying from Grimmauld Place to the Burrow to the Ministry and to Harry and Ginny's flat in London. It was just Hermione's luck that Poppy was at Grimmauld at that time. Hermione tied the small piece of parchment to Poppy's slender ankle, and the large barn owl flew out of the window and into the horizon. She knew the letter would find Ron eventually.

Hermione stared out the window for a long time, just thinking. Her thoughts wandered once more to life after the war. But she did not contemplate her life, or those of her friends and loved ones. She thought about the lives of those on the other side – the defeated side. Their loss signified their imminent convictions and imprisonment. They would no longer have families, loved ones, lives. All they had to look forward to was the hell of Azkaban. Hermione thought of Malfoy. His trial was approaching, and he was surely going to be convicted of war crimes and spend the rest of his sullen life in prison. He would never see the light of day ever again, never be able to have a family, never able to love ever again. She wondered if had even wanted those things? She pitied Malfoy; her life was just now starting, while his was coming to an abrupt end. She wondered if he was scared, if he would take it all back, if he would've changed the way he had been raised. The young witch then thought of the eldest Malfoy, Lucius.

Lucius had been one of the first Death Eaters tried and convicted, as he was one of the only members of the Inner Circle to have survived the war. Bellatrix Lestrange had been killed by Molly Weasley, and Rodolphus and Rabastan soon after by Aurors. Nott, Crabbe and Goyle Sr., Greyback: all dead or in hiding. She had heard that Lucius Malfoy had gone crazy after the death of his Dark Lord, so much so that he barely acknowledged his son when he was sent off to Azkaban for the rest of his miserable life.

She then thought about Malfoy's mother Narcissa. What an elegant woman. Aside from her bigoted and racist points of view, Hermione thought, she really was a regal and noteworthy lady. She represented the epitome of class, and saw much of her in the youngest Malfoy. Her mind flashed Draco's face carrying Narcissa's lifeless body into the Great Hall. She had been huddled closely with her friends and loved ones, mourning the deaths of many – Fred Weasley, Tonks and Lupin, Colin Creevey, and others that she had come to know and love. But as the youngest Malfoy walked past her that day, she had only seen anguish and grief. Malfoy had just stared at her body; jaw slack and head lowered, with his father's hand on his broad shoulder. She had never seen anything like it in all of the time she had known Malfoy. Just like the walls at Hogwarts, the walls of his life had crumbled that one evening. She wondered if that was what had changed him, and had shown her that small ounce of compassion and concern in the staircase last night.

Hermione heard her stomach grumble. She realized that she had not really eaten anything all weekend. She went into the pantry and started to collect what she would need for a brunch for two. Cracking four eggs into a pan, she got to it.

oooooooooo

Ronald watched as Harry's majestic, white owl tapped hooted sweetly from the windowsill at the Burrow. He figured it was a letter from Ginny and Harry explaining their weekend holiday. For his sake, he hoped they spared the details. He still had not gotten over the fact that Harry – his very best mate – was dating and in love with his little sister. He untied the letter from the owl's thin and pink leg. The barn owl playfully nipped at Ron's wrist, wanting a treat for her hard efforts. Ron obliged her, giving her a small piece of bread from the table. He opened the small parchment as the large owl flew out of the open window. A cold realization set into his gut; this letter was from Hermione.

Ron read the letter silently. He had taken a few deep breaths before he had started reading. He promised himself that he would remain calm and collected, not flipping out like he had previously. Perhaps this was her asking him to come back, saying that she still loved him; that she was so sorry for what she had done.

His anger bubbled as he started the second paragraph, "_But I also want you to know that I am not sorry for the way I reacted". _Of course she wasn't. That was typical, hard-headed Hermione. She would never back down from something she had done. The rest of her letter was just that…hard-headed. Hermione did not regret her actions, and instead harped on him for embarrassing her in front of the media. Embarrassing _her_, Ron thought to himself, more like humiliating _him_!

He reread the last few lines slowly – she wanted to take a one-week break. She wanted to think about things. That was never a good sign. Ron began to overanalyse her words, wondering exactly what she meant by '_taking a break_'.

He reassured himself that one week would pass, and that she would realize how much she loved and missed him. He would walk through the Grimmauld Place chimney to find her pacing around the kitchen practically pulling out her hair, so anxious for him to arrive. He would gallantly appear, and she would jump on him, kissing him and apologizing for her bad behaviour. They would make love right on the kitchen floor and after they were done and lying naked quietly on the cold stone, Ron would ask her to marry him again. She would say yes and they would spend the rest of the night christening the rest of Grimmauld Place. He smirked; they would have more sex than they had ever had! He realized sadly that they were not intimate that often – Hermione was never in the mood.

He set the letter down on the counter, nodding to himself, acknowledging that his thoughts would certainly soon be a reality. He would meet Hermione on Sunday night – now less than a week away, and everything would be fine. With Hermione, everything always turned out to be fine.

oooooooooo

Harry stared at Ginny's sunlit face. The small freckles on her nose seemed to gleam. He smiled. He could do this more often, he thought to himself. They were sitting in a park in Edinburgh watching the sunset after leisurely dinner. It was relaxing here. Sure, Edinburgh did have a wizarding population; one that would definitely recognize him, but he hadn't encountered them. It strangely felt like his summers with the Dursleys. No one knew who he was. He didn't have to hide all the time. He watched as Ginny's face contorted with emotion. She was frustrated, mad even.

"I really can't believe he would have the nerve to call her a bitch in front of them. What was he thinking? Sometimes I forget he's my own brother!" she looked to him for an agreement. For him to say that he hadn't expected it, that Ron was a git, that everything would be fine again soon. But it wouldn't be. Ron had royally messed up this time. Both of his best friends had. He really didn't see them getting back together soon. He had it seen it coming. It was nice at first; they seemed to happy and in love. But as the time passed he could tell that their relationship was wearing - especially on Hermione's side. He could tell that her fuse had shortened with Ron, and from what his best mate told, she wasn't putting out for him either. They were both getting frustrated. Ron thought that getting closer would help; Hermione thought the opposite.

"Gin, you know how much I love them both. I can't have a serious conversation about this with you. I can't say bad things about my best mates!" her face started to grow red, but she took a deep breath and turned to face the sunset in front of them. She may have been upset, Harry knew that she understood. She always did.

Draco opened his eyes and breathed in. He smelled something wonderful! It smelled like eggs, and warm bread, and sizzling sausages. Throwing on a jumper over his worn boxer shorts, he sprinted down to the kitchen to find Granger hard at work at the stove. He had been right: eggs, bread, and sausages. It was like he was at the Manor again.

"Well don't just stand there, Malfoy," she said not taking her eyes of the frying pan. She was wearing small pyjama shorts and a large jumper – he assumed it was Weasley's – and her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun.

"Well aren't you a vision this morning," he said as he got two plates from the cupboard and sat at the table.

"Shut it Malfoy, or else you can cook your own food" she retorted as she brought the pan over to the table. She sat opposite him and served herself. She took a bite and looked at Malfoy as he shovelled food into his mouth. She chuckled, "You're practically worse than Ron."

Draco stopped eating and looked up at her, puzzled, "What are you on about Granger? Trying to replace your long lost love with me? Plus, I would like to remind you that it was you who forgot to feed me last night. I'm quite hungry!" He smirked at her and went back to eating his food, at a much slower pace, Hermione noticed.

"Well excuse me for trying to make some civil conversation and not immediately starting an argument!" she said starting to raise her voice at him. "I thought that after what happened last night you wouldn't jump at my throat every three seconds. Who was I kidding, it's only you – Draco Ferret-Face Malfoy!"

Draco stood up and picking up his plate. Being called a ferret was something he could not tolerate. He winced as he thought about the humiliation he had felt when he was flung around by Professor Moody – actually Barty Crouch Jr. at the time – in front of all his friends and peers. He was still trying to live it down! "Granger, just leave my food in the pan from now on, I can eat by myself. I don't want to be your friend Granger! Longbottom managed to understand that concept, but I guess you don't. And as for last night, I must have been sleepwalking or something. I frankly don't know what got into me." With that he turned on his heel and walked up the stairs to his room.

Hermione did not speak to him for the rest of the week. She only saw his form twice. Once when he entered the kitchen for food: he just served himself and walked back to where he had come from. The second time, they crossed themselves in the dark hallways of Grimmauld place, Hermione was drowsy and in her pyjamas, and Malfoy was wet and in his towel. All Hermione remembered was Malfoy's smirk as she blushed at his half naked body.

Thankfully, Sunday came soon enough, and Hermione was anxiously waiting in the kitchen to see if Ron would come to get her and to talk. She had just finished cooking some dinner for herself and Malfoy, and quietly sat at the table, nose buried in a book. She was too nervous to read though, making quick glances at the fireplace every few sentences. She looked up as the fireplace started to rumble, and a smile crept onto her face as she saw a glint of fire red hair.

A/N: teehee a little cliffy here - let me know what you think will happen! Review review review!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Ronald Weasley walked out of the fireplace into Grimmauld place, and turned to face Hermione who was sitting at the table looking up at him with a shy smile.

"Hi." He said. His plan had gone off course already, he noted. Hermione was calmly seated rather than frantically pacing around the kitchen.

"Hi," she responded, slowly rising from her seat. "How are you doing?"

Ron could see that she was uncomfortable with this whole situation, "I'm fine. How are you?" He wanted to ease her into the conversation, make it as normal as possible. Perhaps he would be able to get his master plan back on the right track.

"I'm alright. I've been reading a lot. Umm…did you get my letter?" she asked.

Ron could tell she was starting to get nervous, anticipating an angry outburst at any second. "Yes, I read it…I'm here aren't I?" he instantly regretted his harsh tone. He wanted her to relaxed and happy, "I guess what I mean to say is, I was really hurt at the time, but I thought about it, and I'm sorry 'Mione I really shouldn't have done that, and I should have listened to you and talked about it with you else where. This week was terrible without you…I really missed you," Ron watched as Hermione's eyes welled with tears, "Hermione, I lov-"

"Ron, I think we should break-up" Hermione burst out, looking at the kitchen floor.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. He blinked. He contemplated pinching himself. She had not just said that! Ron saw red. This was NOT part of the plan! What was she thinking? She had called him there for this! "WHAT? Are you bloody kidding me?" He smacked the chair closest to him and sent it slamming to the floor. "Why in hell would you ever think of doing that!" Too much, he thought to himself, he still had a chance here. He could woo her all over again. They did say that make-up sex was the best kind. He approached Hermione slowly, fingers lifting her chin as to look him in the eye, "Hermione, I still love you, we can work it out, I really don't want to live my life without you."

oooooooooo

Hermione's eyes softened, she was falling for him again. No, she had to stick to the plan. She needed more time; time to think and make herself better. Things weren't working between them. They were better off as friends. This was for the best. She cleared her throat, "Ron, I've been thinking about this for a while…It's just not working. I really do love you, more than you will ever know, but I just don't think I can be with you in a romantic relationship right now. It's just not working!" She lowered her eyes to the floor once more, averting his angry stare.

"Hermione, I thought you were happy, I thought you loved me, I thought you wanted to be with me forever…Where did that all go? I thought we were happy together." His eyes then also found the kitchen floor, and Hermione really saw his sadness. This tore her heart apart.

"Ron, I still want to be friends!" she said optimistically, "I can't imagine my life without you! We'll still be friends, right?" She stepped towards him, lifting her gaze. She took a step away from her.

"See Hermione, I don't really think you understand what breaking up means…Do you want to be with me or not?" his voice was steadily rising, "It doesn't work this way! You can't break my heart and then decide to be friends just like that! I'm going to need some time to get over you!" His fury had returned now as he paced around the room running his shaky hands through his orange hair. Hermione heard shuffling upstairs, but thought nothing of it. Malfoy was smart; he would stay in his room.

"Ron…" Hermione started softly, but Ron launched himself across the room, gripping her upper arms and pinning them to her small body. The rage in his expression was palpable, and slight witch was beginning to get scared.

"Weasley. Do you really think you should be doing that right now?" said a very menacing Draco Malfoy in the doorway of the kitchen. Ron immediately let go of Hermione as if he had touched a flame, a confused look on his face. Hermione changed her gaze from Ron to Draco. Draco was looming in the doorway wearing what he usually did, boxers and a jumper. His hair was not combed back like it usually was, and was falling in his face. Shit, Hermione thought to herself, she knew what was about to happen.

"I finally get it." He said slowly as he stepped back, turning to look at Hermione, "YOU'RE DUMPING ME FOR THIS BASTARD? That's rich Hermione, I never thought you were the slag type, but clearly you are…staying here with MALFOY." Malfoy advanced threateningly, but Ron continued on with blind rage, "I bet he's fucked you senseless and convinced you to dump me. Let me see your left arm, has he convinced you to take the Dark Mark too?"

Hermione stood mouth open, speechless. She couldn't believe what had just happened. "I can't believe you just said that Ron. I can't believe it." She muttered to herself sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Weasley, I think you should go." Malfoy said calmly still a few steps form the doorway.

"Oh fuck you, Malfoy…" Ron started.

"RONALD! PLEASE LEAVE! NOW!" Hermione screamed, tears streaming down her face. She had stood up out of her seat once more, and looked at Ron with the most disgusted and angry face she could muster. She wanted to walk over to him and hit him, slap him hard like she had Malfoy the night before. But she would remain calm; Ron was only looking for confrontation.

Ron understood and winced slightly at her scathing glare. He just walked into the fireplace and left with out a word. For the second Sunday in a row, Hermione collapsed on the kitchen floor, sobbing, all because of Ronald Weasley.

oooooooooo

Draco watched as Granger sank to the ground, sobbing noisily. "I'm sorry" he muttered, "I shouldn't have walked in like that."

"You think?" she said loudly, looking up at him with an angry gaze. This was the most dishevelled he had ever seen her; more out of control than at the war. She was helpless, just crying on the dusty floor of the old Grimmauld Place.

"Do you want anything?" He tried to ask nicely.

"Firewhisky. Two glasses." She mumbled into her hands. As he fetched the liquor, she lifted herself into her seat at the kitchen table, beckoning him to sit across from her. He handed her the bottle and she uncorked it, taking a swig then pouring both herself and the blonde sitting across from her a rather large serving. He was kind of unsure if Granger should really be consuming alcohol at this moment. She was upset and quite thin…it would all go straight to her head. And since when did Granger drink? Miss goody-goody Gryffindor did not seem like one to throw back whisky with the boys. Maybe the war had changed her?

He then looked at her face, she was not terribly bad looking. Her cheeks were red and tear stained, but Hermione Granger had certainly aged well. Yet, her eyes were not filled with spunk and happiness as they once were, these eyes were sad and defeated.

She set the bottle back on the table and knocked back the entirety of her glass. She didn't even wince, he thought to himself, maybe Granger did have more to her than he had thought. When she moved to pour herself another, Draco interjected, "Are you sure you should be doing that, Granger?" She finished pouring herself a second glass, and looked at him with a blank gaze.

"Malfoy, I need to get drunk," she said quietly as she knocked the second one back. She reached for the bottle once more, "Catch up, Malfoy. Let's go." The young man obliged her, tipping back the contents of his glass and wincing as the alcohol burned the back of his throat. He outstretched his hand for a second glass; it was going to be a long night.

oooooooooo

All Ron could see was the anger in her eyes. She was so angry. Why had he said those things to her? Why had he called her a slag? Why had he accused her of being with Malfoy? He knew right well that Hermione would never touch him. But then why had Malfoy intervened? Why was he even there? Maybe she was! Maybe she had slept with him! SLAG!

Ronald's mind raced and he saw red and he threw himself out of his fireplace. He grabbed the nearest thing he could find – a chair – and threw it across the room. He couldn't even speak. He was furious. She had dumped him. She had gone and done it. He proposed to her. He had bought a fucking RING! He loved her. And what did she do? She played house with Malfoy. Draco bloody Malfoy. She _hated_ him in Hogwarts. She should still hate him. He tried to contain himself by sitting at the kitchen table. By then his worried mother had ran into the kitchen to find him seething. She just stood in the corner, waiting.

"She ended it. She bloody ended it, Mum." And for the first time, Ron was hit with sadness, not anger. He was genuinely sad the Hermione had dumped him. He didn't care if it was for Malfoy, for Neville, or even for a Muggle. He loved her so much! He let his head drop into his hands and felt his mother wrap herself around him in embrace.

"She'll come 'round Ron. Don't be silly." She cooed as she rubbed his back gently.

Ron knew better. He had passed the line. The anger in her eyes. Hermione wasn't coming back to him. But he could get her to right? He could make her jealous. She would get angry with him, and in a fit of rage confess to him that she loved him. This could happen. He could be with Hermione again! His heart soared and he gave his mother a small kiss, and ran up to his room. He got out a quill and parchment and started to write.

oooooooooo

Hermione sighed and giggled to herself. She was quite drunk. A smile crept onto her face as she looked at the handsome blonde sitting across from her. She decided that if he hadn't been such a foul git to her during school, she would have actually had a huge crush on him. "Malfoy, are you drunk yet?" she slurred, watching him finish the contents of his glass. They'd been drinking for almost an hour, and Hermione had been drunk for the majority of that time. She giggled again as he pour himself another generous glass, and filled her glass with a smaller serving.

She watched as Malfoy leaned back in his chair, took a sip of his whisky, and spoke, "Granger, we've been drinking whisky for an hour, I am drunk, but more importantly you are very drunk. I'm surprised you haven't hit the floor yet."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me Malfoy," she said with a sultry tone. Hermione had never really drunk alcohol before the war. She had sipped on a glass of champagne at Bill and Fleur's wedding, but had reminded herself to be constantly vigilant and not let herself get out of control. After the war ended, she wanted to become a normal adult woman. She enjoyed going out with her friends, especially with Ginny when they had a girl's night. She sipped her whisky as she watched Malfoy finish another glass, probably his sixth or seventh, and lean forward resting his chin in his hands. His cheeks were rosy and he had a stupid grin on his face. She had never seen him like this. She realized that they had never really had an encounter like this ever, nor would she have ever dreamed of it.

"And what don't I know about you, Miss Know-It-All?" he smiled back at her and Hermione felt her stomach drop. He was really gorgeous when he smiled. She thought hard trying to remember the last time she saw him smile like that. He had never smiled like that when he was around her or her friends at Hogwarts; it had always been his famous smirk. She took another sip and prepared her answer.

"Well" she started, eyeing him flirtatiously, "I've never really been happy with Ron, it's been like dating my brother." Malfoy smirked, she took another sip, "And he's terrible in bed, I mean absolutely _terrible_…and I thought Krum had been bad!" She laughed out loud as Malfoy's jaw dropped.

"Granger, too much information" he sipped his drink and chuckled, "I have to say though, however repulsive Weasley is, I am rather impressed with the fact that you have been with Viktor Krum." He tipped the contents of his glass into his mouth and set his glass on the table, Hermione took this as a cue to continue.

"I've been wanting to break up with him for weeks now, I just didn't have the nerve to do it." She stared at the table, sadness creeping back into her eyes.

"Granger, there's no reason to be sad. You did everything right, he just reacted in a really terrible and fucked up way. I read your letter to him, I heard your conversation, you did everything right!" Hermione winced as she finished the contents of her glass.

"I knew it." She said, looking up at him.

"Knew what?" he said nervously.

"I knew you read my letter. I knew that there was a reason that you acted all funny that one night you carried me up the stairs."

"I figured you would realize sooner or later. Nothing much gets past the brightest witch of our age." Hermione blushed at that. That was a term that she heard mostly Harry say, not someone who she hated during school.

"So tell me what does get past me. What don't I know about you, Malfoy?" Hermione leaned forward, anticipating his answer. Her drunken self was very intrigued by the young, drunk, and handsome man sitting across from her.

"Well, for starters, I thought you looked beautiful at the Yule Ball fourth year." He stopped, stunned at what he had just said, but decided to continued, "I got so upset with myself, that I snogged with Pansy that night." He laughed, "God, Pansy was horrid." Hermione blushed as he spoke, but laughed with him. She liked this new, truthful Malfoy. He seemed to understand this and continued on, "I watched you duelling during the war at Hogwarts, you were brilliant! I always envied your skill, Granger." She blushed again, looking down to avoid his affectionate gaze. Why was he talking to her like this, this was so weird and foreign. "And I think today was the first day where I have ever seen you so sad and helpless in my 10 years knowing you…even after the war." Hermione looked up at him now. He was observant. He had noticed her. He seemed to care.

"I saw you carry your mother's dead body after the War." She blurted out. "I saw how sad you were. I was so bewildered because I had never seen any emotion come out of you before. I kind of wanted to hug you…" Her voice drifted off as she looked at his face. His thoughts were elsewhere, probably remembering the pain and sorrow the War had caused him. She raised herself from her seat and walked towards him. She stood before him and put a small hand on his shoulder, "And I watched as your father put his hand on your shoulder, like I'm doing now, as if to steady you. I'd never really seen anything like it. Even in my mourning Fred and Tonks and Remus and the others, I just couldn't look away." He looked at her now and stood up, awkwardly towering above her. She tried to step towards him, to close the gap between them with an embrace, but instead she stumbled sideways, "Fuck."

"Granger…you're drunk. You should really get to bed." He extended his arm to steady her, starting to walk towards the stairwell. Hermione stumbled again. This time, she found both of his strong arms picking her up into the familiar hold that she had felt only a week before. He looked up at his face, which was looking forward; he was concentrating. She leaned her heavy head against his chest as he approached he bedroom door. He stepped in and gently placed her on her bed. She fumbled with her pants buttons, swearing quietly. Malfoy's steady hands undid the buttons and slid her jeans down her bare legs and onto the floor. She blushed slightly as she realized that Draco Malfoy had just helped her undress and was seeing her in her knickers.

He stood at the end of the bed, as she tucked herself underneath the blankets. She looked up at him. "Why's this happening again? You always end up carrying me to bed."

Draco chuckled, "I'm not entirely sure…Goodnight, Granger." He turned and headed towards the door, quietly slinking out.

"'Night" she answered as she heard the soft click of her door. She let her heavy eyes close, and drifted off to sleep.

A/N: So what did you guys think? Do you support Hermione's decision? What about everything going on with Malfoy? Reviews make the world go round :)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: 

Hermione awoke with her head pounding. She slowly lifted her head from the pillow only to flop it back down again. This may be the worst hangover I've ever had, she thought to herself. Hermione had not really had that many hangovers before. She had only experienced a few after nights out with friends, and especially with Ginny. Her head felt like it was going to explode. She wondered if Malfoy was feeling the same way. He had been drunk too, right? She remembered the events of the night past and immediately winced – she had made a fool of herself. She had told Malfoy that Ron was not talented in bed, that she had shagged Viktor Krum, and that she had seen Malfoy at his lowest moment. Then she remembered the young Malfoy's words, the warm blushes that crept across her face as he had complimented her. She recalled the feel of his strong arms and firm chest as he had carried her up the stairs. Malfoy was really not that bad, she thought, as she wrapped herself in her towel and stepped out of her room heading towards the bathroom. Would he make a good friend like Harry, Ginny, or even Ron? What was he like with his friends? Would he be there to support her and listen to her when she wanted to vent. She doubted him. All she had known was the arrogant and rude Malfoy, not the sweet and caring Malfoy who had carried her to bed last night and tucked her in. He intrigued her. She wanted to know more.

oooooooooo

Draco opened his eyes as the light from his window shown into his room. He had a mild headache, but nowhere near as bad as Granger's would be, he thought. He chuckled; she was funny when she was drunk. All her restraint and composure, which she held so dear when sober, crumbled and the floodgates had opened. He was not surprised when she told him that Weasley was a terrible shag, he could have guessed that. That red-haired buffoon was as graceful as a troll. But he was surprised when she let slip that she had shagged not only Weasley, but also world-renowned Quidditch superstar Viktor Krum. Granger had not divulged details, but he recalled they had been an item fourth year. He smirked. There went his theory on Granger being a prude, she had lost her virginity before he did.

He smiled as he remembered his first time having sex. It had been fifth year, and after the upper class Slytherins had thrown a party to welcome the fourth years into the upper-class realm. He had gotten drunk and set his sights on the young and beautiful Astoria Greengrass. Being Draco Malfoy, he could surely woo any girl he pleased, so he advanced on his prey. By the end of the night, Draco had gotten her into a broom closet where had things had gotten hot and heavy. By his drunk fifth year standards, he had gotten plenty of experience, he was an expert snogger and well practiced in the arts of heavy petting. It had not been until Astoria Greengrass had reached inside of his boxers, wrapping her tiny hand around his length, and whispered to him, "Make this worth while, Draco." His eyes had almost popped out of his head, but he had obliged her. With his inexperience, their affair had only lasted a measly three minutes. After their deed, Draco had returned to his bedroom to see his five best friends awaiting him. Blaise smirked at him, "So you finally got a taste of Ast-whore-ia?" They had laughed into the early morning, sharing stories and conquests.

God, he missed those boys. Draco's nostalgic smile turned into a frown as he remembered that he would probably never see any of his mates ever again. Blaise had never taken the mark and had fled with his mother to Morocco during their seventh year. Nott was probably at home, trying to lay low. His father was in Azkaban on the charge of being a Death Eater, and his mother had died when he was young. Goyle was probably in Azkaban – having helped Draco confront the Trio in the Room of Requirement during the War. Sadness filled Draco; the Room of Requirement: the reason Dumbledore died, the reason why he was going to Azkaban, the reason why Crabbe was dead.

He closed his eyes again and willed the memories to stop coming. His sixth and seventh year had been the worst of his life. Sixth year had been filled with stress – something he had never liked – and humiliation. He had failed. He was the reason that the Dark Lord had moved into his house. He was the reason that his father eventually his mind. He was the reason that his mother had died. It was all him. He had never felt so out of control in his entire life. He was used to getting everything he wanted, and being able to control everything around him. That all changed with the Dark Lord. He was unpredictable. But that was what had allured Draco in the first place. God, why had he been so stupid, Draco thought to himself.

He sniffed and got out of bed. He slid off his boxer shorts and wrapped a towel around his waist. He needed the hot water to get him out of this funk. The rest of the day would be ruined without it. He would check on Granger after his shower; make sure she wasn't suffering too much.

He sauntered into the bathroom, hanging his towel next to the shower. He leaned over the toilet, wizzing out all the alcohol that had accumulated in his bladder. He exhaled; he would feel brand new after a nice warm shower. His thought was interrupted by someone stumbling into the bathroom followed by a small shriek. His trademark smirk crossed his face, "It's ok Granger, you can look." He reached for his towel before turning around; he didn't want to scare her too badly.

oooooooooo

Hermione stumbled into the bathroom in her towel without knocking, and looked up. Right in her eye line was Malfoy butt-naked, taking a piss. She shrieked more out of shock than out of fear or embarrassment. As soon as she realized what she had just seen, her hands flew up to her eyes.

"It's ok Granger, you can look," he said. She could hear the smirk on his face. She heard him shuffle and presumably wrap a towel around his waist. "Granger, you can look now," he said seriously. She peeked through her eyes and saw Malfoy indeed wearing a towel, but still half naked. She blushed at the sight of his pale, tall, and toned body, but she kept her hands covering her eyes and cheeks, only looking through the cracks of her fingers. She glanced at his eyes, he was watching her. She shifted her glance downwards to peer at the length of her body. She was covered by her loose off-white towel, her elbows holding it steady, as her hands were still covering her face. Malfoy wouldn't be able to see anything, she reassured herself. She observed as he looked her up and down. It was like he had x-ray vision. It made her slightly uncomfortable. She wondered what he was thinking. She blushed again. Draco Malfoy – bad boy heartthrob of Hogwarts – was looking at her towel-covered body, and she was looking at his.

He cleared his throat, his smirk reappearing again, "Care for a shower, Granger?" Her jaw dropped. She could not believe this! Was Malfoy flirting with her? She composed herself once more, letting her hands drop and grip her towel protectively, as though Malfoy would rip it away at any moment. "Not today, Malfoy. You can shower first, I'll go start breakfast," she stated, immediately walking out of the bathroom.

But Hermione did not immediately move downstairs to the kitchen. She returned to her room, putting on one of Harry's old shirts, which was far too large for her. Before walking out of her room to start cooking downstairs, she looked in the mirror and primped herself. She scoffed as soon as she was realized what she was doing. Who was she kidding, Malfoy didn't care how she looked or how primped she was! He scolded herself as she descended the stairs into the kitchen, getting straight to work. She cracked 5 eggs in the pan, and watched as they sizzled. She heard a faint scratching at the window, looking to see Poppy with a small note tied to her ankle. Her heart sank as she opened the window and took the parchment off of Poppy's leg…it could be from Ron. She sighed in relief as she started to read Harry's small and sloppy handwriting,

"_Hermione, _

_ I assume your weekend has been terrible. Ginny and I had just come back to the Burrow from our weekend away when Ron told us everything. Don't worry, I know you're not dumping Ron for Malfoy and that you haven't taken the Mark. Ron's just upset. Anyways, Ginny and I thought we would pay you a little visit tonight. Don't worry, we'll bring dinner for you and the Ferret. I've gotten Ginny hooked on Chinese takeout…I hope that's ok."_

_Love, _

_ Harry"_

Hermione smiled at his letter. He always knew how to cheer her up. Turning her attention back to the eggs cooking in the frying pan, she wondered what Malfoy would think. She knew they hated each other. It would be an interesting meal.

oooooooooo

Ginny Weasley walked out of the floo at Grimmauld Place and looked around. Harry stood next to her, still holding her hand from the voyage. No one was in the kitchen. She set down the large bag of steaming Chinese Food and helped Harry as he set the table. She heard quick shuffling upstairs and assumed it was Hermione, probably frantically finishing something before coming down to greet her guests. Typical Hermione.

The redhead heard Hermione before she saw her. "Malfoy" Ginny heard Hermione call from upstairs, followed by the light patter of feet down the stairs. Hermione appeared from the stairwell, hair wet and looking frazzled. "Sorry, I just had to finish getting dressed. It's been a long day." She flopped herself down at the kitchen table and wiped her rosy and wet cheeks. Ginny knew that tired, exasperated look – Hermione was hung-over! "I'm really glad you guys came, I have a lot to tell you."

Harry, who had been staring intently at Hermione while shoving his mouth full of Chinese Food, turned to look at the staircase once more. The stairs creaked and the tall blonde walked into the room. "Potter" he greeted, continuing to walk towards his seat next to Hermione at the kitchen table. Ginny watched as he sat down, nodding his head towards her, greeting her silently. He served himself noodles, rice, a bowl of soup and began eating.

"Hermione, are you sure you want to tell us what happened with Malfoy in the room…" Harry started, looking cautious. Ginny knew Harry did not think that Malfoy would ever be malicious towards any member of the Order, but she guessed that he was reluctant to let Hermione spill her secrets in front of the boy who had tormented her at school.

"It's alright Harry, he already knows everything," she started, glancing at Malfoy as he ate quietly. "He's read the letter, and he heard Ron and me arguing Sunday night." Ginny could tell that Hermione was not telling Harry something, and assumed that something else had happened between them that Harry would not have been so comfortable with. The youngest Weasley made a mental note to ask Hermione about his later. "But what Ron may not have told you is that I'd been thinking of breaking up with him for a while now, and I wasn't pleased at all with his weird love for the cameras. It was the last straw for me. Then he had the audacity to insinuate that I was _shagging_ Malfoy. He just took it too far." Hermione said seriously.

Ginny smirked. She loved her brother dearly, but he had no idea how to handle himself around women. She was surprised that Hermione had even dated him in the first place. She thought about what Hermione had said. She was completely right; Ron did have a strange obsession with the media. Ginny didn't understand it. Ron was famous enough! She thought of Harry and Hermione who would pay tooth and nail to remain out of the limelight and live their own normal lives. But that was no longer an option.

Hermione continued, "And Harry, I was wondering if I could stay for a one more week…I'm not really ready to get back out there with the media…and Ron." Harry nodded and a small smile appeared on Hermione's face, "Thanks, you're really the best."

Ginny turned her gazed to Malfoy, who looked as though he had not heard any of the dialogue just exchanged. She watched him as he took his last bight of noodles and placed his plate neatly next to the sink. "Thanks for dinner," he mumbled as he disappeared back upstairs. Now onto the real stories, Ginny thought. Now that Malfoy was gone, Harry would ask her how he was doing, if she was comfortable and felt safe, on and on.

Harry put down his fork and cleared his throat, "So, Hermione, how are things with Malfoy? He's not causing too much trouble is he?" Ginny watched Hermione's eyes soften for a split second; Ginny saw that she was recalling something happy.

"Harry, he stays in his room and I only see him when he goes to the bathroom or comes down for food. He has been no problem what so ever. I feel weird saying this, but actually, he is the ideal housemate for me right now."

Ginny knew instantly there was something that she was leaving out. Hermione was looking down at her hands trying to avert Harry's watchful eye. Harry caught onto Hermione's deception as well, "'Mione, what else is there. I can see you're not telling us something."

Hermione blushed, "It's really nothing Harry. I think we're starting to get along now. It's very strange, we haven't really been arguing as much, and we're not always jumping at each other's throats. When I am in the mood for it, I find him very nice company." Harry nodded curtly to show that he believed her. Ginny chuckled; who would have thought.

oooooooooo

Draco sat at the top of the stairs as he heard Hermione explain to Potter, "When I am in the mood for it, I find him very nice company." Draco smiled as he thought back to this morning and their flirtatious banter in the bathroom. He got up and started to walk towards his room, still smiling. "You're not that bad of company either, Granger," he whispered to himself. She would be there for one more week. Draco felt giddy; he wasn't sure if it was the cabin fever, or that fact that he would have more interaction with Granger. That night, Draco did something that he had not done in a very, very long time: he fell asleep smiling.

A/N: let me know what you think! hope you liked the chapter Review pleaseeee :)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: READ AND REVIEWW! thanks to all those who have already favorited and added this fic to their story alerts! Leave me a note to let me know how i'm doing!

Chapter 6: 

Days had passed since Harry and Ginny's visit, and Hermione was beginning her second week at Grimmauld Place. Hermione was glad that they had visited. They were truly her best friends and were there to support her whenever they could. Ginny had pestered her about more Malfoy details, knowing that the brunette had not told Harry everything. Ginny knew Hermione like that. Like Harry and Ron, she could tell when Hermione wasn't sharing important information, but unlike the boys, she was always subtle about it. Harry had left upon Ginny's request, the redhead claiming she needed some 'time with her galpal'. Hermione snorted with laughter, Ginny really did now how to manipulate Harry. Harry had grimaced at both women, knowing that they were hiding something from him, but he left anyway. Harry was always kind like that. The girls had spent the rest of the evening chatting about this and that, Ron, Harry, relationships, and eventually Malfoy.

Ginny had told her about she and Harry's most recent visit to the Burrow, namely about their interaction with Ron. Ginny – as usual – had been furious and aggressive, wanting to know exactly what happened, then scolding Ron for his wrong-doings. Hermione wondered if that had been the way to do it, but she remembered that there was no other way for Ginny. Being the only girl, she always had to prove herself to her older brothers, bringing on her aggressive nature. It made Ginny an incredibly powerful witch and a very fierce opponent. Ginny had explained how Harry reacted, or how he hadn't reacted. He had stood there while Ginny had berated Ron, and didn't say a word. Ginny had gotten very annoyed by this, but Hermione understood. Ron and Hermione were both of Harry's best friends. He would never – and could never – pick a side for it jeopardised his friendship with both of them.

Hermione had then told her about the two times that Malfoy had carried her up the stairs, and how he had comforted and complimented her on their drunken Sunday night. Hermione had left out her encounter with Malfoy in the bathroom, because she was sure that Ginny would have fallen off her chair. Ginny had squealed – she always wanted to know more: had he kissed her, did she like him, had they talked about it? Frankly, Hermione did not know the answers to those questions. She had certainly not kissed Malfoy, and had not even thought about it before Ginny's questioning. But her opinion of Malfoy was changing: they were civil now, but they were nowhere near having serious conversations. Could she even have _feelings_ for him?

Hermione remembered her sixth year when she, Ginny, Luna, and Parvati had been talking about Hogwarts most eligible bachelors. Of course, Harry had been one of the top, followed by Blaise Zabini with his good looks and charm, then Ginny unexpectedly blurted out Draco Malfoy saying that, "even though he was a total wanker, he was quite the hunk." All the girls had sniggered at this in agreement; Malfoy really was attractive. He had definitely had the best hair in school – beautiful light blonde and flawlessly coifed. He was tall, with large broad shoulder, and lean muscle that he had no doubt strengthened during Quidditch practices. It had been the first time she had really thought of the Slytherin as physically attractive. Hermione smiled as she recalled her school years, before things had gone sour, before she had left with Harry and Ron, and before the war, before the death.

She sighed, bringing herself out of her thoughts, and opened the windowsill, Accio-ing today's Daily Prophet. She sat back down on her bed as the Prophet glided in front of her. She glanced down at the front page, reading the biggest headline, 'War Hero Ron Weasley Rekindles Old Romance with Lavender Brown'. It had only been several days, she thought to herself. Hermione saw red, but she skimmed on.

"_Weasley sits next to Miss Brown, looking at her lovingly. 'Hermione is nothing like Lavender! Lavender is sweet, loving, and gentle; Hermione was very organized, rough, and barely had any time for me. My relationship with Lav is different; better.' He kisses Miss Brown on the cheek, and both blush seeming very smitten with each other." _

Hermione wanted to gag. She couldn't believe it. She looked around the rest of the front page to see if any worthy news had been published, but all she saw was articles about their messy split, about Ron's relationship with Lavender, and finally one in the top bottom left corner titled, 'The Young and Restless Hermione Granger'. Hermione wanted to scream. The article accused her of being an adulterer, sex maniac, self- centred, and obsessed with the war. They made the claim that Hermione had been cheating on Ron with Viktor Krum, and had even made a pass at Harry. She smoothed down her hair and reminded herself that these claims were all lies and unfounded. The Daily Prophet had been publishing trash since after the war, when it had changed management yet again. She sighed and reached for her glass of wine, which she had been nursing since dinner. She downed it and filled herself another, gulping the contents down her throat. She now felt warm and fuzzy, but nowhere near how intoxicated she had been the previous week.

Hermione wanted to talk to someone. She didn't want to disturb a presumably busy Harry, and Ginny was not the right person to call for this matter. She got up from her bed, walking out into the hallway. She advanced on Malfoy's door. She exhaled; did she really want to do this? She remembered his strong arms carrying her small frame, and his happy smile when they had talked in the bathroom. She mustered her Gryffindor courage and knocked lightly on his door.

ooooooooooo

Lavender Brown shifted uncomfortably in the wooden studio chair she was sitting on. She looked on seeing Ron actively talking with some _Daily Prophet_ reporter. She knew what she was doing – the article for the _Prophet _as Ron had suggested, but she couldn't help it if her thoughts kept drifting back to Hermione. Would she be hurt? Would she have expected it? She had been thinking about how Hermione would feel since Ron showed up on her front door two weeks earlier. She had been having an internal debacle on how she felt about Hermione. She knew how Ron felt about her, but was that how she felt?

She had been reading something awfully mundane for her job on Diagon Alley when there was a loud knock at her door. She had opened it to find a dishevelled Ronald Weasley, who rushed into her apartment without even asking. This has immediately put her off. She knew something was up with him, but he could at least be polite. It wasn't like she had seen him lately – he spent all his time with Hermione. He had rashly explained to her what had happened: that Hermione had refused his proposal publically, humiliating him, then had gone and started a relationship with Draco Malfoy to spite him. Although Lavender knew that he was overreacting, she still felt unbelievably bad for him. She was the first to have a romantic relationship with Ron. He knew how sensitive he could be – especially when it came to Hermione. She had taken him in, letting him stay the night, then the week, then he started to act like a sad puppy nuzzling to her. She couldn't resist. When he kissed her a week later, she didn't say no. She knew how wrong this was, and why Ron was doing this – but somewhere deep inside she knew he still had feelings for her. Didn't he? Hermione had hurt him so much; he would never go back to _her._

And here she was. Watching Ron bring the reporter back toward her, claiming the seat next to her and gently holding her hand. Ron did most of the talking in the interview, but she wanted it that way. He was the media man, and she knew how much he wanted to reclaim his spotlight name. But she would be there with him, she would help him, she would accept it unlike Hermione did. She pleased Ron and the reporter by acting shy and coy; she would hang off Ron's every word, giggle when he made a joke, and lean into him. He needed the attention! From that moment on, she strived to be everything that Hermione wasn't. He had always wanted to take the lead, but Hermione had never let him. He wanted power and control, but Hermione wanted that too. Sure, Lavender had been crazily obsessed and controlling at Hogwarts, but she had changed – grown up. She had had other relationships; she understood the concept of compromise.

She would do this right – and Ron would stay with _her _this time.

ooooooooooo

Draco looked up from his book, it was 8 o'clock, and the summer sun was beginning to set. He heard shuffling outside his door followed by three light knocks. "Yes?" he asked, assuming that Granger wanted something. He was surprised when she walked into his room, marching towards his bed and practically threw a copy of the Daily Prophet at his lounging form.

"Look at that rubbish! I can't even believe this! I can't believe HIM!" she let out an angry sigh and sat at the edge of his bed and crossed her arms across her chest. Draco looked down to the Daily Prophet to see the headline, 'War Hero Ron Weasley Rekindles Old Romance with Lavender Brown'. He smirked. She would get flustered over this little article. He scanned the rest of the page, skimming over the trashy news.

"Granger, you really shouldn't let this get to you. He's an arse and he's just trying to make you jealous. Plus, you know the Prophet doesn't publish anything that matters anymore. You really shouldn't worry about this." He reassured her. Draco looked at her troubled face. He was missing something; she was upset about something else.

"It's not really that. I assumed he would date again. I mean he could've waited more than two weeks, but…" her voice trailed off for a moment, "After last time, I didn't expect him to share anything with me, but it just hurts; he could have said something" she sighed. "That's not all though. You clearly haven't read the bottom left corner." Draco gave her a perplexed look as she smoothed her hair and looked down as though his bedspread was interesting. His eyes descended the page on the left side and he read, 'The Young and Restless Hermione Granger'. He quickly glanced at the article, picking up words like adulterer, harlot, Viktor Krum, sexual maniac, and obsessed with the past. Draco couldn't hold it in, he laughed out loud. He looked at Granger sitting across from him on his bed, her brow furrowed in a confused look.

He laughed even louder, "Looks like your secret is out Granger, the entire Wizarding World knows you're a nostalgic sexual deviant!" He kept laughing, leaning back against the headboard. He heard Hermione chuckle, then break out in laughter with him. She leaned forward and playfully smacked his arm, "thanks for telling them, Malfoy!" They were both laughing for what seemed hours, but in reality was maybe three minutes time. He looked at her giggling across from him. She sat cross-legged on the opposite side of the bed, looking down at the Prophet, laughing.

The young Malfoy was proud that he had comforted her, and made her smile when she had clearly been upset. He reached forward and swatted the Prophet from the bed, hearing it flop down onto the ground. "So Granger, tell me, are the rumours true? Are you a sexual deviant with a fatal attraction for Viktor Krum?" he smirked, not expecting her to answer.

Hermione looked at him and chuckled, "Complete bullocks, I've only been with Viktor once and that was fourth year the night before he left." She blushed, realized what she had just told Malfoy. "But I have never, and will never cheat on _anyone_." Her face instantly went serious; this had clearly touched a nerve.

"Granger, you're the confessed deviant here…why all the anger?" he slightly regretted his bantering tone. He really didn't want to start a fight right now. He softened his eyes slightly and hoped that she noticed that he was being sincere. She did.

"Well, I've seen what it does to people. All the jealousy and suspecting. It's just not good for anyone." She looked down at her hands once more, seeming slightly embarrassed at what she had just said, "God, I hate the media!" she cried trying to change the subject.

"Granger, have you been drinking?" he smirked as she blushed, "You're always so forthcoming when you drink." He looked at her again, she was nowhere near as intoxicated as last time. Her cheeks were rosy and pink, as though she had a slight sunburn. He watched her mouth as she giggled again, showing her slightly larger than normal front teeth.

"Malfoy, I always tell you embarrassing things like that I've shagged Viktor Krum, and you never tell me anything! Girls drooled over you in school, you have to have some stories of your own!" she begged. She looked like a young schoolgirl listening to her older sister's gossip; there was a spark in her eye that he had not seen since Hogwarts.

"Well fine, I went through a phase fourth and fifth year, where I thought I could get any girl I wanted, even Gryffindors." He chuckled as she over exaggeratedly dropped her jaw, "I bet Weasel would love to know that his innocent Lav has a soft spot for Slytherins."

Hermione squealed, "I _cannot_ believe it! You've been with Lavender Brown? Gross."

He chuckled, "Fourth Year. I snogged her senseless in a broom closet by the dungeons. By then she had already snogged Nott and Blaise. Goyle snogged her a week later, and told us he had gotten _other_ favours, but none of us believed him" Hermione screeched, shaking her head and bouncing her feet on the mattress like a five year old.

"EW! That is so foul! I'm surprised though, no favours for you? I would assume is she had put out for Goyle of all people…"

"I didn't shag her if that's what you think. I didn't stoop that low. Plus Granger, not all of us are sexual deviants like you!" She laughed. Draco had a feeling that this was making her feel a lot better about Ron dating Lavender.

She leaned forward again, "So if you didn't shag Lavender, who _have _you shagged? Don't' tell me the Prince of Slytherin is a _virgin_!" He contemplated giving her an answer, but Malfoys did not kiss and tell. She would have to learn about his conquests another day. Although Hermione seemed intent on getting a response, she let out a small little yawn instead. Draco saw that the alcohol was starting to take its toll.

"Granger, I think it's time for bed. I can tell you stories another day," He got off the bed and extended his hand to her. She did not take it, "Or would like me to carry you and tuck you in again?"

Hermione's eyes went dark, "I am not a child, Malfoy. For your information, I am not even drunk anymore! You always do this; you always treat me like a stupid child! Well newsflash, Malfoy, I helped take down the most evil wizard of our time! One – I should remind you – you are being incarcerated for supporting. I've killed people; I am NOT stupid and I am NOT a child!" she lifted herself from his bed and marched across the room, heading for the door.

"Granger, wait. That's not what I meant. Come on, I was joking" but Granger stamped out of his room, slamming the door in his face. "Shit" he whispered as he rested his forehead against the wooden door.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: this was a really fun chapter to write for me! Make sure to Review!

Chapter 7: 

Draco Malfoy wandered down into the kitchen to see if Hermione had made him some breakfast. She had: scrambled eggs and two slices of toast. Draco made himself a cup of nice strong tea because he had not slept well the past night; the only thing he could think about was how upset Hermione had gotten the night before. He had not meant to be malicious, but she had interpreted it as an insult. He knew she was strong and talented, and he did not think he had treated her like a child. What had he treated her like? His eyes narrowed as he thought on this question.

He grabbed his tea and his plate of breakfast and walked into the reading room. He smirked as his eyes fell on Hermione asleep on the couch with an open book resting on her chest. Typical Granger. He took a book from the shelf and began to read and eat at the same time. He finished his breakfast and peered over the top of his book; Hermione was still asleep. He wondered how long she had been asleep there. He looked at her sleeping face; her featured were soft and relaxed. He looked at her honey-coloured hair. It has smoothed over the years and now fell on her shoulders, forming loose ringlets at the around her collarbone. His eyes scanned down her body. She was skinnier than she had been in school. He assumed that the stress and aftermath of the war had done that to her. But – Draco thought to himself – she still managed to look perfect. She was curvaceous with the right amounts and proportions in the places that mattered. His eyes wandered upwards towards her breasts, but Draco stopped himself. This was Hermione Granger, not some Slytherin slag that drooled at his feet. However, Draco couldn't help thinking of how beautiful she was sleeping there in front of him. It kind of scared him.

He set down his book as he returned to kitchen once more, placing his dirty plate and mug into the sink. He returned into the reading room to see Granger awake, reading once more. Draco sat down and reached for his book, but Hermione spoke before he could open it, "You know it's awfully rude and strange to watch someone while they sleep." Draco looked down to his book trying to hide his embarrassment; he had been caught.

"Can't a man eat his breakfast and sip his tea with a book in hand? We live here _together_ Granger. I am not forced to remain in my room all day and all night, and neither are you. We're both _independent _and can take care of ourselves."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "What are you getting at, Malfoy."

He cleared his throat, "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry for being a git last night. We live here _together_, I think that we should be civil rather than bursting into argument every chance we get." He felt so uncomfortable; apologizing was not one of his strong suits.

Granger sat up, "You know what Malfoy, I don't need your apology or your pity for that matter. I don't need your help. I think you were the one who said that we are not friends."

"Then get your stories straight, Granger" Draco was becoming upset, "You _always_ come knocking on my door as soon as you've had two or more drinks. I'm pretty sure you are _always_ the one initiating contact. You're _always_ the one who wants to talk, who wants to know more. I don't get you! Stop confusing me, it's not fair!"

"Well had you ever thought that I was lonely? Newsflash _Malfoy_, you are the only other person in this house. I can't go bother Harry or Ginny every time I want to talk. You're my last resort!" She was standing now, getting in his face. Draco wondered how this argument had escalated to this level.

He stood up as well, moving towards her, "Granger, you can't tell me that you don't enjoy talking to me. You've got to like me somewhere deep inside that big head of yours! There has to be a reason you keep coming back." He stretched his arm out to grip his hand around her elbow. What was he doing? It's not like he had feelings for her, right? He was touching her, trying to get her to calm down, trying to get her to stop being mad at him.

He did not grip her hard at all, but Hermione's eyes instantly went dark. She gave him the angriest glare that she could muster, "Touch me again Malfoy, and I'll call Harry. You'll be in Azkaban before you can sputter out another one of your lame apologies." Her tone was low, even, and calculated, "Stay away from me."

ooooooooooo

Hermione felt Draco's hand release her elbow as soon as she uttered her dark words. He looked up at her, and for a second she saw the sadness in his eyes, but just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Draco put up his guards once more, stalking out of the room, emotionless.

She stood motionless for several seconds after Draco had left her. What had she just done? She was confused, like Draco, about their civility and potential friendship, but had acting out and threatening him been the right thing to do? She remembered the very beginning of her relationship with Ron: they had always fought. They had never admitted their love for each other until the circumstances had become dire and uncertain. Was this what was happening with Draco? Was she pushing him away in efforts to repress something? She sighed loudly as she sat back down on the sofa, reopening her book.

The days following their huge argument were slow for Hermione. She did not see Draco once, and was starting to sort of miss his presence. She still cooked for him, and she had evidence that he was still eating, but she had not seen him for three days straight. Hermione was beginning to feel lonely, and there was only one person to contact when she felt lonely – Ginny Weasley. She gathered a small piece of parchment and got her quill, and started her letter to the redhead,

_"Ginny, _

_ Malfoy has stopped talking to me and disappeared into the depths of his dark room. I'm getting rather lonely. I think this calls for a Girl's Night."_

_ XO, _

_ Hermione"_

Hermione waited for Poppy, who was to arrive later that day, and attached the small note her to skinny pink leg. Hermione smiled as she saw the owl return three hours later with a small note attached to her foot. She could already tell that Ginny would say yes; Poppy never returned back to Grimmauld Place this fast. She gave Poppy a treat as she untied the note from her leg.

_ "'Mione, _

_ Talked to Harry, he says it's fine for you to have a night off, just put the wards around the house before you leave. He says you know what he's talking about. I hope your lonely self can stay occupied for two more days! We'll go get drunk and dance with attractive Muggles. I'll floo over at 9 on Friday. _

_ Can't wait, _

_ Gin"_

The next two days went even slower for Hermione. She became fixated on the 'Girl's Night' approaching and raided her small closet multiple times deciding what to wear. She had even asked Harry's permission to go back to her apartment to collect some clothes. He has smirked at her, obviously knowing about their girl's night, but let her go anyway. She wanted to look sexy, to be seen. She wanted to get back at Ron for dumping her, make him regret it. She wanted to show Malfoy that she was a woman now, not a schoolgirl reading in the library all day.

Friday finally came and Hermione awoke up late. She cooked for Malfoy, leaving him lunch and dinner, and went back upstairs starting to prepare for her evening. She took a nice, long, and hot shower, melting all the stresses of the past weeks away. She lathered herself in lotion until her skin was soft and creamy. She moved on to her hair, drying it, putting product in it, and brushing it for what seemed hours. It had to be perfect.

Pleased with her hair and body, she started her make-up. Hermione had never really worn much make-up, usually only wearing mascara and lip balm. She decided that she would not cake make-up on her face as other women did when they went out, but she would make herself look classic and effortlessly beautiful. She painted a thin line of eyeliner above her eyelashes followed by black mascara with a lengthening charm. She covered her lips with a sheer pink gloss, and pouted in the mirror. Perfect.

Hermione heard Ginny arrive a few minutes after 9. She put on her heels – golden sequined ankle boots – and sauntered down the stairs, trying to be as sexy and seductive as possible. "Oh. My. GOD!" Ginny squealed, "You look _fabulous_ Hermione!" Hermione wore a small black baby doll dress. The skirt gently poofed out from her small waist, falling onto her toned and tanned upper thighs. The top of her dress clung to her upper body like a glove, accentuating her small waist. Hermione straightened hair fell past her collarbone as she grinned at Ginny.

"Well I'm trying to compare to you, Gin!" Hermione answered. Ginny was wearing tight black cropped skinny jeans, in which she had tucked in a sheer, loose fitting blouse. The blouse had been unbuttoned past Ginny's modest, black bra. Ginny's long, thin legs were accentuated by the suede black peep-toe pumps that she wore. Her long, fire red hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail, which fell just between her shoulder blades. The two women looked like English supermodels. "Thank god we're going into Muggle London because the Prophet would be all over this!" Ginny said as she grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her towards the floo.

"Wait, the wards!" Hermione remembered muttering a few enchantments. Ginny's face twisted into a confused look, "Don't worry," Hermione said, "The charm just says that after we leave, no one can come in or out except me or Harry."

"Good thing," Ginny laughed, "Harry might need to bring you home! THAT'S how drunk I'm getting you tonight!" Ginny pulled her hand into the floo, quickly apparating from the Leaky Cauldron. They reappeared outside a chic bar in Muggle London. Ginny wasted no time, and ordered three rounds of Tequila shots – Hermione's weakness.

Three rounds became seven as men began to buy the two witches drinks. Hermione grabbed Ginny as the clock struck 11, "Dancing!" she squealed drunkenly. The two women migrated to a club nearby with a group of guys they had met and drank with at the bar. Although Ginny had informed them that she was in a very happy relationship, one still clung to her: Mario. His skin was tanned and his hair was a dark brown; he was Italian. Hermione smirked; he looked like a tall and tanned model version of Harry. She looked at her catch, Jack. He was tall and stylish like his friend. His dirty blonde coif fell neatly on his forehead as he grinned happily at her. Her thoughts instantly went to Draco's smile as he laughed at the Prophet article. But she instantly scolded herself, Draco had ignored her for the past week! She was here with Jack, not Malfoy.

As Hermione entered the club, the beat of the music hit her body – she wanted to dance. She turned around, smiling at Ginny who was happily dancing with Mario and his friends, and grabbed Jack's hand and led him onto the dance floor. A mixture of music and alcohol coursed through her veins, and she began to dance, moving her hips to the beat. Jack moved behind her, hands finding her hips, and she began to move her hips in sync with his. She continued to dance with Jack, but her drunken mind wandered to what Malfoy was doing right now. Was he reading? Was he taking a shower? Had he even been to a Muggle club before? She wondered if he was a good dancer.

She was disrupted from her thoughts as Jack lowered his warm lips to her neck. Electricity jolted through her body. Jack's hands descended onto Hermione's thigh and started to move up, under her dress. Hermione paused. Did she want to do this? Sure, she was attracted to Jack, but some unnameable force was stopping her. "I like you, Hermione. You should come back to mine…for more drinks." She turned around and smiled, about to answer him, when she felt Ginny's firm hand tug her away.

"'Mione, it's 2am, we need to get going!" Hermione was not sure if she was relieved or sad that she was going. She was still quite drunk and had the need to dance the alcohol off. She also thought about going back to Jack's apartment. Would she have shagged him? Would this have been her first sexual encounter since Ron? She thought of Grimmauld Place. She had to go back, to baby-sit Malfoy. It was her job, she had to.

"Ok Gin, I'm coming." She gave Jack a chaste kiss on the cheek; he was clearly pouting that he had not gotten his prize for that night. She said goodbye to Mario and Jack's other friends and they were off. Hermione and Ginny stumbled into Harry's flat in London to see him sitting at their kitchen table still working. Ginny giggled and said something that sounded like 'I told you so'. Hermione slurred a greeting to Harry, thanked Ginny for a truly successful girl's night and walked into the fireplace.

She fell forward out of the floo at Grimmauld Place and onto the cold kitchen floor, "Ow, Shit!" She raised and composed herself. She was more intoxicated than she had thought. Damn Ginny and her Tequila shots! She stumbled up the stairs and looked down the hall. Malfoy. She should really check on him. She sauntered in her golden heels to his door. She opened it to see darkness and a sleeping Malfoy.

She walked in lighting the tip of her wand. He looked so calm and so innocent. His hair, which was usually meticulously coifed as it had been in school, was now shaggy and falling over his eyes. His face was calm; he wasn't smirking or sneering. He looked so innocent and nice, not like someone who had tormented her for seven years. She sighed. Why had she gotten so upset with him? He was only trying to be nice; trying to be her friend. She had messed everything up. Her tiny frame swayed and she stepped forward to catch herself. Her shoes had made more noise than she had anticipated, and she watched as Malfoy sat straight up in bed, now aware that there was someone else in his room.

"HI!" she said loudly, glad that he was awake. Realizing that it was just Hermione, he relaxed and collapsed back into his bed. She walked towards him and her eyes adjusted to the dark, "I've just come back! Gin and I went out us girls. I was going to tell you, but I didn't see you." He just stared at her. She continued, recounting the events of the night. Describing the bar they had gone to, how drunk she had gotten, the men they had met, the club they had gone to, and how she had danced with Jack. She had even started dancing for Malfoy as he silently watched her. "He asked me to go back to his apartment, he did. But I didn't go! I'm a good babysitter." She said as she removed her shoes clumsily.

Hermione then did something that proved to Malfoy that she was more intoxicated than she could handle. She climbed onto his bed and straddled him, setting her small hips onto his. Hermione could feel his heat under her, knowing that she was turning him on. She leaned forward, putting her hands on his broad shoulders, "I came back for you, Malfoy," she whispered as sexily as she could considering her current state. Malfoy finally moved, placing his hands on her hips, and Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. His hands became firm, and Hermione realized that he was moving her off of him and back onto to the floor. Her feet his the floor harder than she had expected and she almost lost her balance once more. Throwing his covers aside, he got out of bed, only in his boxers Hermione noted. He handed her her shoes and pushed her out of his door, promptly closing it in her face.

"Shit" Hermione mumbled, leaning back and resting her heavy head against the door.

A/N: let me know what you guys think! hope you guys loved it...do you think that Draco should have pushed her away? Review :D


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I've written this until Chapter 18, and I'm still going strong. I've posted quite a bit, so I'm going wait for some love to flow in! Not posting until some more reviews to READ AND REVIEW!

Chapter 8: 

Curses were flying everywhere. Hogwarts was in ruins. Men and women in dark, black robes were fighting others wearing school robes and Muggle clothing. A man – someone she didn't know – fell right in front of her, dead. The victorious wizard admired his kill and cackled, "What a pity, another little blood traitor killed. Do you know this one, Narcissa?"

She glanced at the dead body briefly. The wizard was young, perhaps a student, covered in scrapes and bruises. He had been fighting hard. She looked back up to the Death Eater, "No. Have you seen Draco?" she tried to keep her tone nonchalant and cold, but she couldn't help but sound frantic.

"No, I haven't, but I assume he's having a ol' grand time. This is what he's been waitin' for hasn't he? Hopefully he's got Potter's little Mudblood all to himself." He cackled once more and stomped away, scouting for his next kill.

Narcissa wanted to gag. Her son would never stoop that low. She knew he was good and that he would never abuse a woman that way. She knew that he was scared out of his wits right now. She just wanted it to be over. She walked briskly towards the castle, maybe he was in there!

"Where you goin' Cissy?" she heard an evil drawl behind her. She turned to see her maniacal sister, Bellatrix wand in hand. She was standing over two Aurors, who Narcissa remembered to be Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Her heart sank, Bella had killed family.

"Bella, I need to find Draco, have you seen him?" she looked at her sister's crazed stare, "Please, Bella, have you seen him?"

Bellatrix's eyes went dark, "Why no, Cissy, I haven't. Why? Planning on ditching?"

"Bellatrix, please, I _must _find him." Narcissa pleaded once more.

Bellatrix humpfed, giving Narcissa the notion that she had no idea where her son was. She quickly turned and started running towards the castle. She would find her son if it was the last thing she did.

Bellatrix raised her wand towards her own sister, "Now, now Cissy. Didn't mother tell you, you must stay for the _whole_ party?" she cackled as Narcissa looked behind her shoulder, "Avada Kedavra!"

Draco jolted up out of bed, lying in what seemed to be soaked sheets. He heaved ragged and strained breaths as he laid back once more to rest his head on the pillow. He blinked again, trying to get to image out of his mind. All he saw was his mother's dead corpse on the grass, face etched in worry, hand reaching for the castle's stairs.

ooooooooo

A few more days passed and Hermione's terrible hangover eased slowly. She had woken up the next morning in nothing but a T-Shirt, make-up from the night before smeared across her face. She had felt better after taking a nice, hot shower, but it still took her a day to fully recuperate. She saw nothing of Malfoy, although she would occasionally hear him shuffle down the stairs for his meals. She had tried relentlessly to remember what had happened in Malfoy's room, but the entire night was fuzzy. All she knew is that she had been in his room, and that at one point, had been straddling him. She winced – that was probably the reason he was avoiding her!

She glanced at the clock: 7pm. She stomach grumbled and she raised herself from her spot the couch and walked into the kitchen. Tonight, Hermione was cooking one of her favourites: Spaghetti Bolognese. She smelled the meat sauce that she had been working on the entire day and smiled. This was going to be a fabulous dinner and a fabulous night! She stirred the red sauce with a wooden spoon when she heard something shuffle behind her. She turned around to see Ron Weasley stepping out of her floo.

"Jeez, Ron! You startled me!" She said as she bent down to pick up the wooden spoon she had dropped. He looked at her nonchalantly and sat down at the kitchen table as though he was living in Grimmauld Place as well. Hermione was instantly put off by his attitude.

"I came here to tell you something Hermione" he started. Hermione swallowed nervously as he continued on, "I just wanted you to hear it from me…Lavender and I have gotten back together."

"Are you kidding me Ronald? _That's _what you came here to tell me?" He nodded indifferently clearly trying to remain above her and the whole situation. "Well for your information, your little relationship was published on the front page of the Prophet – which I still happened to read – last week. I can't say that I am surprised. I would have liked a day's notice, but I wasn't really upset about that."

"Good, then I'll be going" Ron said anticipating what was coming next.

"No, Ron, you won't. I really did enjoy reading the Prophet that day; you had such kind things to say about me! What was it again? Sexual maniac?" Hermione said in an angry tone.

"Well she treats me well 'Mione! It's an actual relationship; we do more than sit around, read, and talk about the war. We have conservations about our _interests_ and _current _events." Ron answered standing up from his chair.

"She is a TRAMP Ronald!" Hermione screamed. She wasn't sure why she was getting so upset over Ron, who _she_ had broken up with. "You should hear the things that Malfoy told me about her school days! She snogged most of the Slytherin boys her fourth year…and did _other _things with GOYLE!"

Ron's eyes darkened and he glared at her maliciously, "Don't talk about her like that. She's changed. She's sweet now, not crazy like she was in school. Plus she's better than _you_! She actually likes me!" Hermione was getting angrier and angrier, but Ron beat her to the punch, "And I suppose you believe everything Malfoy tells you now. Look at you, you're PATHETIC!" he yelled, "He just wants to make you another notch in his bedpost! One last go before he's locked in Azkaban for the rest of his life. He's not good for you Hermione! He's using you!"

"WHY DO YOU CARE? It's not like you have feelings for me anymore." Hermione was furious. Her breaths were ragged, and her chest rose and fell quickly. He had called her pathetic. No one had _ever_ called her pathetic…not even Malfoy.

"'Mi…" Ron started, voice soft now.

"JUST LEAVE!" she screamed. Ron nodded and backed into the floo, leaving her seething in the kitchen. She leaned against the kitchen counter and saw Malfoy standing in the doorway. She let out an exasperated sigh, "Great."

oooooooooo

Lavender Brown sat on her sofa waiting patiently to hear the faint pop outside her door. She spent the time observing the split ends in her curly, golden hair, and observing her painted red nails. The faint pop eventually came, followed by three light knocks on her flat's door. She opened it to see her boyfriend, Ron Weasley, with a grimace on his face.

"Well? How did it go?" she asked as he walked into her door and plopped himself onto the nearest couch. She gingerly took a seat next to his lounging form.

"How do you think it went? She already knew! Then she proceeded to tell me some shit Malfoy had said about you. Then we got in big row, then she screamed at me to leave." She could tell that he was stressing about it.

She lightly touched his arm, "Ron, you already knew that this wouldn't go well. Harry told you she already knew! You expected a fight, we prepared for this," this didn't seem to help, "It's alright. She'll come around, and Malfoy will be in Azkaban in no time. You really shouldn't worry about her Ron." He seemed to relax at her touch.

He sat up abruptly, pushing her arm away, "I'm surprised that bloody wanker didn't even show his face. Probably too scared after last time." He paused in thought, "You know what Lav, Ginny told me that he was just living there and that nothing is going on, but I bet you there is! She hated him! How can she willingly let him live there?" he stood pacing around the small room. Lavender was about to interject some reassuring words in efforts to calm him but he continued on, "You know what she said to me? She said that Malfoy told her that you snogged most of the Slytherin boys! _Malfoy _told her that! That means they've been talking. They're probably planning against us this very second!"

Lavender blushed, trying to hide it from him, "_Did _you snog those Slythering boys?"

"Yes," she whispered, avoiding Ron's widening eyes, "But I was young! But doing that in fourth and fifth year gave me a lot of confidence. It's that confidence that gave me the courage to kiss you that one night sixth year…" She glanced over to him, his eyes had softened slightly, but he was still frantic and red, "Ron you really need to calm down," she said softly, "You shouldn't worry about her. You're with me now."

"You're right." He said stopping in the middle of the room and approaching her, "I am with you now. And I'm happier with you." He placed a small kiss on her lips and wrapped his arms around her. She hoped he was right.

ooooooooooo

For the past few days, Malfoy's head had been spinning. He had awoken abruptly in the middle of night Friday to see Granger stumbling around his room. He had never seen her this way. Sure, she was drunk and talking nonsense – dancing around his room at one point – but she looked so different. She was wearing something fashionable that clung to her amazing body, flattering her every curve. Her hair was straight and smooth. She was even wearing makeup! The young Malfoy had barely recognized her, thinking some lost model had somehow fallen into his bedroom. All he could do was stare at her in the darkness. He felt the tingling of excitement as she told him about how she had left the man she was dancing with – who had wanted to take her home – because she was a good babysitter. He had fought the urge to smirk.

He had almost lost it when she had taken off her shining gold shoes and climbed on top of him. She had placed her small hands on his shoulder and leaned toward his face. His throat went dry: this was happening: Hermione Granger was coming on to him. He would have never imagined this in his wildest dreams, he blinked a few times, to make sure he was really awake. He was. She was turning him on. Her silky hair has falling in his face, tickling his ears, and he breathed in her sweet scent. She had whispered loudly, "I came back for you, Malfoy." Draco wanted her. He wanted to flip her over right there and ravage her. Her lips were beckoning him. He wanted to feel her body, her smooth skin. He wanted to tangle his hands in her thick hair. But he couldn't. She was drunk. He was the one who had pushed him away not two days ago. This was Hermione Granger for God's sake! No.

His hands had found her hips. He doubted himself once more. He could do this. She was willing. His mind flashed back to Wednesday, "Stay away from me" she had said with such malice and hate. He knew what he had to do. Not saying a word, he pushed her off the bed, handed her her shoes, and pushed her out of the door. He stood rooted to the ground for several seconds, hearing her head thump against the door. He had done the right thing, he reminded himself. He had crawled back into his bed, not falling asleep until a few hours later. She was starting to mess with his head again. The only way was to avoid her.

The next few days had been very quiet for Draco. He had stayed mostly to the confines of his room, only emerging with absolutely necessary. He glanced at the clock: 7 o'clock; he was starting to get hungry. Granger's meals were always ready around 7. He got out of bed for the first time that day, slipping on loose fitting pants. He was pulling a t-shirt over his head and grabbing his book when he heard Hermione's raised voice, "She is a TRAMP Ronald!" Weasley was here…again. He emerged from the room and silently made it to the bottom of the stairs, staying concealed in the darkness of the doorway.

"And I suppose you believe everything Malfoy tells you now. Look at you, you're PATHETIC!" the redhead shouted at her. Draco frowned; that was a low blow, "He just wants to make you another notch in his bedpost! One last go before he's locked in Azkaban for the rest of his life. He's not good for you Hermione! He's using you!" He really wanted to knock some sense into Weasley then, just a few punches, but he stayed hidden. Revealing himself now would do more bad then good.

"WHY DO YOU CARE? It's not like you have feelings for me anymore." Hermione screamed loudly at Weasley. Draco watched at Ron's eyes softened and looked up at her small, seething frame. Shit – he was going to tell her he still loved her and they would get back together. Perfect. The young Malfoy heard the redhead mutter something followed by Hermione's angry scream booming through the house, "JUST LEAVE!"

Draco watched as Weasley retreated back into the floo. Finally, he stepped forward into the light. Draco watched as she turned in his direction, leaning against the counter. She sighed clearly annoyed by his presence, "Great."

Draco walked into the kitchen and held up his arm with the book, "I was just coming down to get dinner…and read a little." He moved into the reading room sitting down on the couch and started to read.

Several minutes later, Granger shuffled into the reading room with two plates of spaghetti. She handed one to Malfoy and sheepishly sat at the other end of the sofa. They both started eating in silence, the awkward sound of chewing and slurping filling the room. Draco felt so uncomfortable. She had not been happy to see him earlier, and she was clearly still upset from her argument with the Weasel. He really was just that – a Weasel. He was always stringing Granger on and hurting her at the worst times. Anger swelled in Draco's heart; it wasn't right. He finished his plate, and set it gently on the small side table next to him, and reopened his book.

He heard Hermione sniff and shift in her seat. He questioned whether he should look up, see if she was all right. She cleared her throat, "He called me pathetic" she whispered. Draco looked up at her, she was indeed crying, tears falling silently down her cheeks. "No ones ever called me pathetic before…nerd, stupid, ugly, awkward, mudblood, but never pathetic. Not even you…" Draco wondered if he should answer her. Their relationship was already so strained, and every time they got somewhere, one of them would ruin it. But she was crying, he thought to himself. No man can resist a crying woman.

"You're not pathetic Granger," he answered quietly. Those small, soft words were all it took. Hermione closed the space between them, sobbing into his chest. His strong arms gradually closed around her as she cried. It was not long before she had wrapped her slender arms around his torso, clinging to his old white shirt. It seemed as though she was crying out all the tears that she had been holding in since the last time Draco had seen her crumpled on the kitchen floor after the Weasel-king had visited the first time. He wouldn't let him come back, not when Granger ended up like this.

He comforted Hermione, softly rubbing her back until she stopped crying. He focused on the small circles he was forming in her cotton white shirt. Eventually, she looked at him. She sniffed a few times and wiped her bleary, red eyes. She sat back next to him looking straight ahead. Draco wondered what she was thinking. Was she scolding herself for opening herself up to him? Was she mulling over what had just happened? His mind raced into overdrive imaging what would occur next. Would she scream at him? Would she slap him? Would she _kiss _him? He braced himself as she blinked twice and stood up, looking down at him for a second. He released the breath he wasn't aware he had been holding in as she turned and walked towards the stairwell. Hermione stopped right before exiting the room, "You're not so bad, Draco." She said calmly looking back at him. He watched her as she turned and ascended up the stairs. She had used his first name.

A/N: BREAKTHROUGHHHH! what do you guys think about the sexual tension? what do you think is coming next? REVIEWS NEEDED FOR NEXT CHAPTER! muhahaha


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you SOOO much for the positive reviews! Definitely boosting my ego :P

I've decided that I'm going to start asking questions for you all to respond to in reviews. That way it's easier for me to see how I'm doing, and it's easier for me to respond to you guys! Remember - I won't update until I get a certain amount of reviews!

Qs: So what do you guys think of D&H's new friendship? What about whole thing with Ron and Lav? Leave a reply as a review!

Love you all! Happy Reading!

Chapter 9: 

Draco watched as Hermione laughed. She tossed her head back, mouth open, eyes closed, genuinely happy. Ever since the night Weasley had left and he had comforted the young witch, they had developed a civil – friendly even – relationship. They had eaten every meal together, having long conversations into the night. They would sit and read silently in the reading room, enjoying each other's company. He liked this; he hadn't a friend like this since before the War.

"You _really _did that! The five of you sent Pansy roses pretending to be from Harry?" she laughed even harder.

"Yeah! You should have seen the way she looks at Potter these days. Remember when she said that we should get him before the war?" he watched as Hermione nodded, remembering the incident after Voldemort had addressed the students of Hogwarts, "Word got around that she was worried sick the entire time she was in the dungeons. She kept asking if people knew the whereabouts of Potter and what was going on. The boys and I would have a good laugh if they knew" He smiled as nostalgia overtook him once more, he and his friends had certainly had some great times.

"Tell me about them" said Hermione, noticing that he was reminiscing on his closest friends from Hogwarts. Only a few days early would Draco have questioned this inquiry, wondering why she wanted to know so much about his friends. "Tell me about your friends" she asked again.

"Well, we all shared a room in the Slytherin dormitories. There was Blaise, my best mate at Hogwarts. He was cunning and clever like me; he was always with me on my little schemes. Actually, most of the schemes were his ideas. Seventh year he and his mother fled Voldemort and went to Morocco. Then there was Nott. He was always the quiet one. But the best thing about Nott was that he always listened, and when he did say something, he was usually always right. He laid low during the war – didn't take the Mark and got away as soon as there was word of an attack. His father is already going to rot in Azkaban and his mother has been dead since he was young. I think he just stays at home. Goyle is in Azkaban already…for the Room of Requirement, and some other things he did during the war. Then Crabbe…well, you know what happened to Crabbe." He sighed, remembering his friends that he would probably never see again. "And you, what of your friends? There's got to be more than Potter and Weasley."

She looked down at the table, suddenly looking sad, "Well I've lost touch with most of them, but you're right, there was more than Harry and Ron. I wasn't really that close with the girls that I shared a dormitory with Lavender and Parvati, and usually spent my time in Ron and Harry's room or the library. There's Ginny, she's probably my best girlfriend. She just understands me, and is a great distraction sometimes. She takes me out, and we do girl things. I never really had any opportunities to mess around like that in Hogwarts. Then there's Harry, he's probably my best friend there is…like the brother I never had. The whole Weasley family is fantastic. There's Fred and George" she paused, "well George now, but they're hysterical. They always knew how to lighten a dark situation. Molly and Arthur are like my second parents." She paused again, and Draco sensed that she was leaving something out, but he didn't press her, "I just love that family so much" she exhaled, "I had friends at Hogwarts but none like Harry and Ron. I don't know, I guess I never had time for better friends. I think that's one of my biggest regrets of Hogwarts." Her voice trailed off, "but onto happier things…hmm, like birthdays, favourite colours, things I wouldn't know about you, that sort of stuff."

Draco chuckled, "Hello my name is Draco Malfoy, my favourite colour is green and I am born on the 16th of August. Some thing you wouldn't know about me is…" he paused in thought, "this whole house arrest thing is the first time that I have ever worn anything my mother did not chose for me. Now you."

She laughed, "My name is Hermione Granger, my favourite colour is purple and I am born on the 24th of January. What you wouldn't know about me is that I have one of Harry's jumpers, and when I'm scared or sad I wear it. And Malfoy, I didn't know your birthday was coming up! Why didn't you say anything?" He suddenly felt uncomfortable. She was going to do the typical female thing and ask him all these questions and organize celebration, and so on. This was something he didn't necessarily want considering the doom of Azkaban was quickly approaching. He had wanted to quietly live out the remainder of his free days.

"Ugh, I guess I just didn't think about it." He answered, "but I really don't want to think about it now. Lets talk about…." He smirked, "Granger, who was your first kiss?"

Hermione smiled. He loved her smile, it was so full of life and joy, "I'll tell you if you tell me." She answered returning his interest.

"It's quite the tale actually. I first kissed Pansy Parkinson second year. She had totally lured me into it, and I had almost passed out when she started snogging me. She left a rather nasty love bite on my neck. I still get shit about it, especially from the boys." He chuckled, remembering the laughs, "Now you. Spill, Granger!"

Hermione blushed, "The first boy I kissed was a Muggle, the summer after our first year. His name was Patrick and he was my first boyfriend. We had met at the park the summer before. We would hold hands and walk around our small neighbourhood. One day, when he walked me back to my house, he kissed me. It was nothing special. I expected fireworks to go off, but it was just a normal peck. I can't say that I wasn't disappointed."

Draco scowled jokingly, "Ugh, you're _boring_! Kissing Muggles, _booringgg_," he made a face, "How about your first kiss with a _wizard_!" He smirked, as Hermione blushed even redder.

"You're going to laugh, but I guess I owe it to you. My first real snog and kiss with a wizard was with Seamus Finnegan second year. Not even Ron and Harry know about this…they always assumed Viktor had been my first kiss." Draco snorted, "He had approached me after Defence Against the Dark Arts, and told me he had to show me something. She showed me an empty broom closet, and the rest is history."

"God Granger, I would have never pinned you as such a sex fiend!" he teased. Hermione giggled and shook her head at him. A quiet scratching at the window turned their attention to the window. Hermione saw Poppy patiently waiting at the window, with a small piece of parchment attached to her thin, bony leg. It was a letter from Harry,

"_Hermione, _

_ I need to speak with both you and Malfoy. I'll be by later tonight.. Ginny says sorry she can't come but she has Quidditch practice. See you at 7. _

_Harry"_

He watched Hermione look from the letter, a hint of fear in her eyes. "Harry is visiting tonight…" Draco felt his stomach drop as the reality hit him: Azkaban was steadily approaching.

ooooooooooo

Harry watched from the hallway as Kinglsey as he finished his conversation with Xenophilius Lovegood. It had been a while since Harry had seen Mr. Lovegood, not since he had sold them out to the Snatchers. His hair was starting to grey significantly and untamed as ever. The man still looked crazy, Harry thought to himself. After the war, Mr. Lovegood – the esteemed editor of The Quibbler – had been offered a post at the Ministry, specifically working with the Winzegamot. Because of this the Quibbler had become one of the most up-to-date and reliable news sources in Wizarding England. Mr. Lovegood shifted his gaze, looking out of Kinglsey's door to glance at Harry. Harry was still wary of the frail-looking wizard. Something had never been right with him, and still wasn't. Harry changed his attention to the Minsiter of Magic. He was a tall and broad man, clearly a trained Auror. He watched as the Minister of Magic nodded at Xenophilius once more, opening the door and escorting the old, blonde wizard out. Harry's stomach dropped; it was time.

"Come in Harry, I'm sorry I've kept you waiting." The Minister said beckoning Harry into his large office.

"It's really not a problem Minister," he looked down awkwardly, dreading what was coming next, "I suppose this meeting is discuss Malfoy's trial then?"

"Quite right Harry! I've just talked to Xenophilius, who has confirmed that it will appear in the Quibbler tomorrow. We need to start planning, I need to know where you stand." Kingsley gave Harry a questioning look. Harry felt uncomfortable. Kingsley knew something – he had put two and two together. "I understand that you did not want Mr. Malfoy imprisoned just yet, and I have noticed that he has received different treatment than other Death Eaters may have received. I'm not trying to pry Harry, but for the fate of his trial, I must know what you know."

Harry cleared his throat nervously, "I don't think that Malfoy ever wanted to be a Death Eater. I never saw in him the pure hate and evil that I saw in the others. You weren't with us there in the Room of Requirement Kingsley, he tried to stop Crabbe from setting the fiendfyre." Harry swallowed, "I know somewhere in there he is good, and I guess I was hoping to find it by not throwing him in Azkaban just yet."

Harry looked up to see Kingsley's reaction. Kingsley looked down at him with a toothy grin, "You will never stop being a good person Harry. Even to those who have not been that kind to you in the past. It is really a quite admirable quality."

Harry blushed; it was not everyday that the Minister of Magic told you that you had admirable qualities. He cleared his throat once more, "Well I really must be going, I owe a visit to Malfoy anyway." Kinglsey muttered something that sounded like 'Yes, go ahead' and read through paperwork once more. Harry said goodbye to the Minister of Magic and apparated back to his apartment in Muggle London.

Once home, he wrote to Hermione, letting her know that he would stop by, and more importantly that he would need to speak with Malfoy. He thought about Hermione and Malfoy living in the same house for a while. He would have never thought he would ever hear Hermione say that Draco Malfoy – the boy who had tormented her all throughout Hogwarts – was good company. After all the drama that had happened with Ron, Harry was starting to think that he would not need to start looking for an Order member to take her place; she seemed willing to stay. Harry made a mental note to ask Hermione about her plans.

He then thought about Malfoy, especially about what he had just told Kinglsey. He thought back to Malfoy's face in the Room of Requirement as he had confronted them. His mind flashed then to his dark face as he looked blindly in the direction of his mother's corpse. Draco had never wanted this. Harry thought of his face once more – that day: in the Great Hall and in the Room of Requirement – had been one of the only times he had seen the blonde wizard portray any type of emotion. He remembered the face of George and Ron, their sorrow. He remembered his feelings as he turned away from the Mirror of Erised his first year at Hogwarts, how much it hurt to look away from his parents. Malfoy had suffered enough with the loss of his mother.

Harry worked diligently for the rest of the afternoon, filing paperwork, making plans, and organizing his calendar to maintain his busy schedule. He glanced at his watch – nearly time to go to Grimmauld Place. He swallowed dryly and thought of the potential hurt that Malfoy would feel once he told him his trial date would be announced soon. Malfoy would have to endure the feeling that his impending doom was approaching quickly. He tidied his desk and glared at the fireplace…it was time to go.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace and into the kitchen to see Malfoy and Hermione deep in conversation. Draco looked completely at ease, his usual scowl or sneer unapparent. Hermione's brow was furrowed – she was deep in thought. Harry cleared his throat to let his presence be known, "Hey there" he started.

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts and got up to greet him, "Harry! How are you? I've missed you so much!" She hugged him quickly, and showed him to the kitchen table where a steaming plate of her cooking awaited.

"Potter" Draco said nonchalantly.

"Malfoy" Harry returned in the same tone.

Dinner had little conversation. Harry noticed that Malfoy seemed tense; he must have sensed what was coming. Hermione tried to make simple conversation: asking what Harry had done that week, how Ginny was doing, and other one-word-answer questions. They finished dinner and Draco stood to leave. Harry cleared his throat, "Uhh, Malfoy, before you go I need to talk to you for a second," he glanced at Hermione, "alone. Sorry Hermione, Ministry business."

"Oh that's perfectly fine Harry!" Hermione said sweetly, "I'll just clean the kitchen while you talk, just head into the reading room."

Harry and Draco awkwardly walked into the reading room, Harry sitting on the longer couch and the blonde wizard sitting in a chair across from him. Harry felt as though he was in a meeting, "As I'm sure you've guessed, information about your trial has been brought to my attention and I just wanted to let you know about it," Malfoy stared at him not showing a single hint of emotion so Harry continued, "No date has been decided on yet, but the Minister is looking into it, and I just wanted to let you know that the announcement will be made soon." Harry watched nervously as Malfoy absorbed the information.

His brow furrowed, "Thanks, Potter. I appreciate you keeping me in the loop." He then stood up and walked out of the room. Harry heard him mutter something to Hermione and the stairs start to creak. He figured it was safe to walk back into the kitchen. Hermione was waiting for him at the kitchen table with a hot chocolate.

"I know it's your favourite," she said smiling up at him, "So, how did he take it?"

"Surprisingly well. I don't think Malfoy has ever been that nice to me before." Harry took an indulgent gulp of his hot chocolate. His muscles instantly relaxed and the tension he had been holding this entire week eased.

"Yeah, he's actually a pretty nice guy once you get to know him…and get over all that Death Eater and Hogwarts stuff," she looked down into her mug and Harry noticed a pink shade creep over her cheeks, "We've been talking a lot. I think we might be becoming friends. He's been really nice to me since Ron and everything…" she trailed off and stared back into her mug.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry about that 'Mione. Ron is being a right git…" Harry felt extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden. He was talking to one best friend about his other best friend. It just didn't feel right.

"It's really alright Harry. I'm just glad I got out when I did. He's so stubborn and childish sometimes." Her eyes flashed with sadness and Harry knew it was time to change the subject.

"Yeah, like I said, he's being a git right now." Harry said. Hermione noticed the end of the conversation and looked up at him, "Hermione…I need to know what you plan on doing for the rest of your time here. You've been here for a month. I need to know if I should start looking for another a replacement or not."

Hermione's face visibly relaxed, "I want to live here Harry – if it's not too much to ask. I've come to like Malfoy, and I don't think I'm ready to face the Wizarding World just yet. Could I please just stay here until his trial?" Harry looked into her eyes; they were practically pleading him.

"Of course you can stay here, Hermione. This makes everything so much easier for me! I trust you Hermione, and that's what is most important when it comes to who watches Malfoy…It has to be someone I trust."

She smiled widely, stood, and hugged him, "Oh thank you, Harry!"

"I should really be thanking you 'Mione!" He said as he wrapped his long arms around her small frame, "Now you go and get your things from your apartment and I'll stay here."

Hermione bounded through the fireplace giddily, Harry knew she would return twenty minutes later with her whole wardrobe and bookcase shrunk in her pocket. He smiled – he had done something right.

oooooooooo

Ron stared at the ceiling above Lavender's bed. The morning light shown through the curtains into the average-sized bedroom, Ron squinted slightly and turned to face a sleeping Lavender. She looked so peaceful and relaxed. He turned to stare back at the plain ceiling. What was he doing? Was he leading her on? What was he going to do? Hermione had completely blind-sided him by breaking it off. Yeah, he had been rash and gotten upset. He always did – she should have expected that. But he couldn't take no for an answer – he had to get her back, and now _Malfoy_ was in the mix. That wanker would ruin everything. According to Harry and Ginny, they were getting along fine, although they still fought. Ron was sure that Malfoy had bad intentions – he always did. Hermione was his, no one else was allowed to touch her! He still loved her damnit! He just had to get her back.

But what about Lavender? His heart fell as she watched her peacefully asleep next to him. She really did like him, and he her. She was different than Hermione. She was caring and gentle, and so different from Hermione. She was also the key to getting Hermione back. Hermione was an insanely jealous and competitive person. He already knew that his stunt with the _Daily Prophet_ had not sat well with her, but he had not anticipated losing his cool. Hermione just drove him crazy. But he couldn't get her out of his head! Flopping back onto his pillow, Ron shook his head, trying to void his mind of any thoughts relating to Hermione. He was with Lavender for the moment, and he had to make the best of it. Everything would fall into place eventually.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: So what does everyone think about Ron and Lav? Do you think he's using her? How about Hermione's new commitment to Draco and Grimmauld Place? Read and Review!

This chapter is pretty important – a lot of crucial stuff happens! Enjoy!

Shoutout to TwistedOwl and foshizzledizzle13 for their wonderful, numerous reviews!

Chapter 10: 

Hermione spent the entire week unpacking. With Draco's help she had assembled both her wardrobe and her bookcase. Oh how she loved her bookcase. She had spent two days filling her new bookshelves with her old books, some – like _The Tale of Beedle the Bard_ – bringing back fond memories of times with Ron and Harry. She saw other books like _The Little Women_ and _Pride and Prejudice_, which had been some of the first books her Mother had given her. Even though she had not brought that many books – just the most important ones – she took time to look at each one, remember the times she had read them.

The books given to her by her parents took her much longer to sort. It had been over a year since she had had to obliviate her parents. Sometimes she wondered how they were doing; if they were safe; if they were happy. She had laid awake at night, asking herself these questions. She dreamt of visiting them, just watching them through their window. Going about their daily lives, without her. She grappled with the emotions she would feel. Would she be relieved to see them alive? Or would she be distraught to see their lives without her in it? She sat on the floor thinking about these things for what seemed hours. Homesickness overwhelmed her as she slowly flipped through the pages and memories.

However, tending to her wardrobe took much longer. Hermione wanted to be a grown up since the war had ended. So she had retired her old jumpers, flair jeans, and sneakers – although they had made appearances since her stay at Grimmauld – for chic dresses, skinny jeans, and pumps. Even though she was no longer in the public eye, she had been, and her look needed to reflect her sophistication. She missed her shopping days with Ginny, and hoped, that since she was living at Grimmauld until further notice, that Harry would let them escape to Muggle London for a few shopping trips.

She sighed looking around her room, a week of tedious work had passed, but 12 Grimmauld Place was starting to feel more like home. She hoped that it felt the same for Malfoy. She had tried hard to include him in her small move, and to have dinner with him each night – even asking him what he wanted to eat some days. She glanced at her calendar hung above her desk at the other end of the room: August 15th. She had secretly been planning a birthday dinner for her blonde housemate, figuring that it would be his last for a while. She planned to cook an extravagant meal accompanied with the best wine she could find. They would talk until late like they always did. Hermione had even gotten him a small present: a small, chestnut-coloured journal – no larger than a palm – that when opened, magically released a beautifully wooden crafted fountain pen. Hermione had bought it for Ron, but in light of recent events, thought it would be a perfect gift for Draco, she had even written him a small note on the first page,

_"Draco,_

_Thoughts are the key to sanity. _

_Happy Birthday!_

_ ~ Hermione"_

She had figured he would take it Azkaban and it would give him a small piece of the outside world; something he could always keep with him. She set the small journal back on her desk, and looked at her clock; it was late. She would need a good rest for the following day.

oooooooooo

Draco awoke late the day of his birthday. The sun shone into his room – straight into his sleeping eyes – warming it slightly. By the positioning of the sun high above the building he figured it was early afternoon. He continued to peer out the window from his bed and sighed, it was his last free birthday. He swung his legs off the bed and noticed a small note on his nightstand,

"_Happy Birthday! Tonight at dinner, wear the clothes you used to wear."_

He furrowed his brow, confused by Hermione's note. What did she mean by the clothes he used to wear? He thought back to what he had worn at Hogwarts – only the best. He remembered his exotic threads fondly. The only Muggle thing his parents had ever let him buy was clothing. His closet at the Malfoy Manor was full of Armani suits, Gucci belts, and custom-made shoes. He sighed as he looked across his room to the small wardrobe, he had not been able to bring his beautiful clothes with him; they were lost in the Manor forever. His eyes lowered to his bed once more, but he paused, looking back up at the wardrobe. Granger was a clever one, he thought. He strode across the room and practically ripped the thin door off the tall piece of furniture, and just as he had thought, in the middle of his raggedy sweats and old jumpers, was one of his old suits.

_"Glad to see you've still got it? Kitchen at 7pm."_

He smiled. His birthday was off to a great start.

ooooooooooo

Hermione cooked all morning: making sauces and marinades, cleaning the dishes, making everything perfect. After the table was set and all that was left to do was to cook the pasta and grill the meat, Hermione ascended to her room. She repeated all the steps that she had done for her 'Girl's Night' with Ginny several days earlier. She washed her hair and dried it, letting her honey locks fall in wavy, loose curls. She applied makeup once more, leaving it simple and elegant. Finally, she opened her closet and looked at the outfit she had picked for herself. The top she had chosen: a short sleeved light blue silk shirt with an abstract pattern of dark blue polka dots. If she squinted just right it looked like ocean waves were flowing across her body. She paired the unique shirt with dark wash skinny jeans that flattered her toned legs. She looked herself in the small mirror on her dresser, placing pristine pearl earrings into her ears. She stepped into her nude pumps and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Perfect.

Hermione snapped back to reality as she glanced at the clock: 6:30! Malfoy would be down soon! She hustled downstairs and made sure that everything was perfect. In those 25 minutes, Hermione managed to cook the pasta, grill the two steaks she had chosen and marinated, and put everything on the table. She ran upstairs again around 6:55…she wanted to make an entrance.

ooooooooooo

Draco sauntered down the stairs at 7:01 expecting Hermione to be frazzled and unkempt from all the racket he had been hearing in the kitchen, but she was nowhere to be found. He looked around the kitchen – he had never seen it so clean. The table actually had a table clothe on it and tons of steaming food. There was pasta with a red sauce sitting beside it. There were two steaks, freshly cooked, also sizzling on the table. Draco's mouth started to water.

Just then he heard a shuffling upstairs and turned to look at the entrance to the kitchen. Hermione walked in and his jaw dropped. She looked just like the model that had sat on his bed that one night several days ago; that beautiful girl that had drunkenly danced around his room. Her hair was shiny and curled neatly at her collarbone. She wore the perfect skinny jeans that clung to every inch of her toned and muscular legs. The food has made his mouth water, but Hermione was making him drool.

"Well don't you look handsome tonight birthday boy!" she said seductively. He felt himself grow hot and turned on. No, he thought, he had to make it past dinner. He did think that he looked good though; the best he had looked in a while. He wore one of his classic Italian suits: black with a classy white shirt tucked into the hem of his slacks. He had left the top two buttons undone to bring a more casual look to the dinner. Then he had thrown on his sport coat, also black, over. His hair was perfectly coifed the way it had been in school. He really did miss looking good. "Well, sit down! The food is starting to get cold!" Hermione said bringing Draco out of his thoughts.

They enjoyed a nice long meal; Draco feasted on the food she had prepared: the meat, and the pasta, and the cheese, and the wine, and the cake. He was in heaven! She laughed as he declared that this was his best meal since the Manor. They talked for a long time, just feeding off of each other's company. He looked at the clock as it chimed 10. They had just finished desert. Draco patted his stomach and watched as Hermione hid a yawn. He stood up from the table, taking their plates to sink.

"Tonight was brilliant! I really can't thank you enough Granger." He said as they walked up the stairs together.

"Don't thank me just yet," she said pausing at her door, "I have something for you." He watched her as she stepped into her room, leaving the door open, and went to her desk. He looked into her room. Even though he had been inside of it before, it looked different somehow. It wasn't completely clean or disastrously messy – it was inhabited. Her bed was slightly undone, with the sheets ruffled on the right side. Her wardrobe was open and her dresser slightly disorderly – the content of her jewellery box strewn across it. He looked at her rummaging through he desk. It was covered in papers, old parchments, and open books. She returned, facing him then taking his hand. She opened his palm, dropping a small book into his hand. The book was a beautiful chestnut colour, just a tint darker than her hair. He opened it to see a beautiful fountain pen magically appear and land in his hand. He squinted his eyes to read the small text she had written for him, but she stopped him, "Don't read that yet."

He looked at her unlike he had ever looked at her before; he looked into her eyes, "This is wonderful, Hermione," she blushed as he said her first name, "This has truly been one of my best birthdays." She looked up at him once more allowing him to see the fervour and passion behind her eyes. He outstretched his hand and touched her face, her soft and pale cheek. Her hand also rose to her face, covering his, their eyes never leaving each other's. Draco slowly lowered his face to hers, and their lips connected.

The kiss was soft and short. He had forced himself to bring his lips away from hers and look at her once more. His hand was still on her cheek, and her small hand still covered his. He felt her thin fingers leave his and glide up his arm, reaching for his cheek, but he stepped back, bring his hand back to his side, "Good night, Hermione. Thank you again." He said as he turned and slid into his room.

He sat on his bed for a long time, not even undressing, just thinking about what had just happened: the kiss he had just shared with Hermione Granger. Everything about her made him tingle, and when he had mustered the courage to kiss her in the hallway, he had nearly collapsed. The electricity between their two bodies had jolted him into reality: it couldn't work. Potter had told him not a week ago that the trial date was to be announced soon – he would surely be going away for life.

He silently undressed and slid into bed, eyes blankly staring at the ceiling. Now was not the time to start a relationship.

ooooooooooo

Hermione watched as Malfoy walked silently back into his room, his door quietly closing with a click. She fell back against the wall, using it for support, and slid down to the floor. What had just happened? Draco Malfoy had just kissed her. And most frightening of all, she had enjoyed it. His lips had been soft and gentle against hers not rough and sloppy like Ron's had been. He was tender and light, something she had never experienced before. She wanted more. She re-watched herself reach her arm for his body, for his cheek, to taste his lips once more, but he had stopped her. He had ended it as quickly as he had started it. He had been reserved, restrained even, as though he was holding himself together. She had melted, becoming hungry for more. She wanted to march back into his room and kiss him again, hold him until the morning. But she thought of his life, what she had done to make his birthday special. She had to have Harry talk to Kingsley just so she could get one of his old suits. He was a criminal, one who would soon be locked away in Azkaban for the rest of his life.

Hermione thought of his eyes as they had pierced through hers. She had seen him; he had let her in. He was so scared, so sad, but also genuinely happy. She slid off her shoes and stood up. She understood now. He was being typical Draco Malfoy – rational. This would not – could not – work.

She nodded to herself and shuffled back into her room, letting her door close as quietly as Malfoy's had.

ooooooooo

The feeling is like being numb. Nothing affects you. You're just there. You try and feel their pain because you want to take it from them but you can't. You want to try to save them, make them feel better, make them smile, laugh, talk, but it doesn't work – they're as numb as you are. When they first come back, they don't know how to react to you. They aren't use to the noise, the movement, the being. They just sit. They get irritated easily. They talk to themselves. It scares you because you love them. They're were helpless, and now you are.

Everyone knew who the prisoners of war were, especially the ones held in Malfoy Manor. That was because Harry Potter and his gang had helped them escape. Yet another set of people who owed their lives to the Golden Trio. Olivander had died shortly after the war had ended; he was too overwhelmed with the aftermath, the press, the fame. Everyone had remained a recluse. After what happened to Olivander, no one doubted the poison that the media planted. They couldn't handle the buzz, not after the daily visits from the Lestranges and others.

Luna Lovegood sat at her chair in her quirky house. She knew her father had missed her, but he was overbearing. She had been so free at Hogwarts, then went into a year of imprisonment. She had to find a medium in between. Her father was trying, he really was. At first, he would never leave her side. Thank goodness for the Ministry position and the success of the _Quibbler_. She could now sit and think to herself, sometimes getting a visit from Dean or Neville. Ginny stopped by quite frequently as well. She liked their company. She liked how gentle they were. But she even noticed the changes. She was quieter, more subdued, and not the initiator of conversation that she used to be. She had seen awful, awful things. But she had also witnessed the beauty of friendship. She had heard Hermione screams, and seen Harry and Ron throwing themselves at the bars. They had carried them out of the cell. Dobby had given his life for the mere concept of helping his friends. She let a tear slide down her check. Things had been hard adjusting, but she was making headway. The entire war had brought a new level of bravery that Luna had never known before. She let her eyes readjust and stare at the clock on the opposite wall. She only had an hour left to herself before her father joined her at home. She would need to cherish it.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Sorry it's been forever since the last update – I've been absolutely swamped at work! But here is 11! I promise to try and be better at updating

Sooooo Draco and Hermione's budding relationship? And what do you guys think is Luna's relevance in the story?

Read and Review, but most importantly Enjoy

Chapter 11: 

The week passed and Draco had decided to continue life as it had been; he would act as though the kiss they had shared had never happened. Hermione seemed to notice this, and graciously played along. He sensed that she was confused about their encounter, but she did not talk to him about it, and when she noticed that he wanted to move on, she moved on with him. Granted, dinner conversation was not as lively and flirting was non-existent, they still enjoyed each other's company, spending hours in the reading room. He appreciated her understanding and assumed that she had had the same thought process as him – it would never work out.

However, this did not mean that Draco had forgotten about their shared moment – quite the contrary. Their kiss was plaguing Draco. He could not forget about it; he couldn't forget about her! How sweet her lips were, how warm and calming her eyes had been. He could hardly stand being in the same room with her because all he would do was peek at her from above his book or watched her as she spoke to him. He watched her as her brow furrow when she was annoyed. Her eyes would narrow when she didn't understand something. When she was intrigued or thinking about something very hard she would lick her lips.

He had spent his week like this: silently keeping her company, but also watching and learning her movements and behaviours. He was doing it now. He watched as she started to fidget her toes, something she did when she was uncomfortable, he had learned. She was onto him! He glanced down at his book once more, rereading the same line he had glanced at for the past hour. He finally passed the line and read on. It was going to be a long day.

oooooooooo

Ginny sat cross-legged on the couch reading a Muggle women's magazine as she heard Harry enter their flat through the fireplace.

"Ginn?" Harry called, looking to see where she was.

"I'm in here!" She answered. She watched him enter the room and sit down next to her. His hair was especially ruffled, a sign that he had been pulling on it a lot, which meant that he was stressed. "What is it?" She inquired.

Harry sighed, "I have to go see Malfoy…his trial date has been announced. It's going to the press tomorrow." Ginny looked into her lap; he had had a tough day indeed. Ginny was not sure why, but she knew that Harry was paying an abnormal amount of attention to Draco Malfoy's case. He had been more stressed and immediately changed the subject whenever she wanted to talk about it. But, as his girlfriend, she wanted to do whatever in her power to support him.

"Do you want me to come with you? We could make it a dinner! We could even bring Ronald! Just like old times…but with Malfoy." She said reassuring him.

She watched him as he visibly relaxed and grinned at her, "Would you? It wouldn't be half as awkward with you there. Plus, I think Hermione has been dying to see you!"

"Of course she has. I'll just owl Ron then…" she started, moving towards the parchment and quill sitting on the other side of the room.

Harry reached out and gently grabbed her arm to stop her, "Ginny, I don't think that's a good idea. They're not really speaking right now…" he said awkwardly sensing that she had not really known the extent of how bad their break-up had gotten.

"Well, he needs to learn how to interact with her now that they're not in a relationship. She may have broken up with him – and broken his heart in the process – but she still wants to be friends and I think this will be good for him," she said, "Plus, I'm his sister." Ginny stated matter-of-factly.

Harry shook his head – she was impossible to sway once she had made up her mind, "Alright, but I'm warning you, Malfoy being there triggers a nerve for him. It might not end well."

"Well he better hope for his sake that it does!" Ginny retorted fiercely. She then stood from the couch and walked into the kitchen with her quill and parchment in hand, sending a letter to Ron informing him to be at their flat for dinner. Harry had followed her into the kitchen and watched her write the note. When she was finished he scribbled a small note to Hermione informing her that he was coming over with food later to talk to Malfoy.

Hours later, Ron appeared in their kitchen just as planned. Ginny had been waiting for him. "Sit down," she started with a steady tone. He obliged her with a confused and slightly worried look on his face, "We are going to Grimmauld tonight for dinner. You _are _coming with us, no questions," she stated as Ron's mouth dropped and he started to moan in protest, "You _will_ behave or else Mum will hear about it."

Ron grimaced, but knew better than to question Ginny. Harry then entered the room, giving the elder redhead an apologetic look, and the three of them stepped into the fireplace. Ginny gulped; she really hoped she hoped he would obey her, at least just this once.

ooooooooooooo

Hermione sat reading at the kitchen table waiting for Harry to walk out of the floo at any moment. The fireplace rumbled and Hermione watched as three bodies walked out of her floo. Her stomach dropped as she saw Ron shuffle out of the floo shyly; he knew he was not welcome. Hermione swallowed her pride as she hugged and welcomed them all, including Ron. She was going to show him that she had moved on, that she did not need a man anymore; she was going to be civil. This was going to be a taste of what their friendship would be like.

"Let me just go get Malfoy," she started walking towards the stairs, "You guys can set the table." She walked up the stairs as she heard them start to move about the kitchen.

"Why do I need to be here…Why does _Malfoy _need to be here!" Hermione heard Ron grumble in the kitchen.

"Ronald! You are here to be with Hermione!" Ginny replied fiercely back at him, trying to keep her voice down.

"Yeah, but the bloody _ferret _is here!" he retorted.

Hermione frowned and wondered if Ron really knew why Malfoy was here; surely not. Sure, Ron was in the Order and worked with Harry, but Harry was higher up than Ron and often worked directly with the Minister of Magic. Ron couldn't have this kind of clearance. She thought of how Ron would react if he had known, would he be such a prat? She wondered how he would even react if Harry had told him – not well. Ron _hated _Draco.

She reached Malfoy's room and knocked lightly. Her mind quickly flashed back to the week earlier. She looked back towards her room as though she were watching the whole situation again. She watched as she covered Malfoy's hand on her cheek and as he bent down slowly to put his lips on hers. Their interaction had decreased since their encounter, and Hermione was upset that something had changed. She had sensed that Malfoy still wanted her company, but did not want to talk about or even acknowledge their kiss. She understood; he was going on trial; he was going to Azkaban. They were both being rational, which was the best route to take in this complicated situation. But Hermione could not help to feel slightly upset that things hadn't taken off with Draco. This kind of romance was something she had never experienced before, especially not with Ron. But there couldn't be anything else between her and Draco. It was good vs. evil; light vs. dark. She was _the _Hermione Granger best friend of _the _Harry Potter. She thought of why Harry was downstairs – there had probably been a development in Malfoy's case.

She attention refocused as Malfoy opened the door and looked down at her, "Yes?" he inquired.

"Harry and Ginny…and Ron are here with dinner." She said warily. He visibly tensed and a scowl came over his face. He grunted a response and nudged passed her walking down the stairs. She followed him down and they both entered the kitchen. Ginny was already seated at the table with her head in her hands. Harry was standing behind his chair looking stressed. Ron was leaning against the kitchen counter staring at his shoes awkwardly.

"Potter," he nodded towards Harry, "Ginny" he said in a nicer tone in the red-haired witch's direction, "Weasley" Malfoy ended darkly.

"Malfoy" Harry said. Hermione watched as he sat down next to Ginny. Hermione moved towards the table, calculating where she would sit. She could sit next to Malfoy, but that would get a nasty rise out of Ron. She could sit at the head of the table, leaving Ron and Malfoy sitting next to each other, which was the worst possible scenario. She decided on sitting across from Harry, which was putting herself between Malfoy and Ron. Malfoy followed her quietly directing himself towards the head of the table. Ron acted quickly, jumping ahead of Malfoy and sitting himself at the head of the table. Malfoy exhaled calmly and rerouted himself to sit on Hermione's other side.

They all tucked into the Chinese Food that Harry and Ginny had brought. The meal was relatively quiet, with Ginny and Hermione trying to make as much small talk as they could. They talked about possible future shopping trips, maybe going out a few more times. They had tried to include the boys, but none of them were really keen on talking. Ron barely uttered a word, and spent the majority of dinner glaring in Malfoy's direction as if he were to spontaneously combust at any moment. Malfoy innocently kept his head down and ate his food.

Hermione mustered her Gryffindor courage and turned in Ron's direction, "How have your past few weeks been Ronald?" she asked in a friendly tone.

He finally took his gaze off the blonde wizard at the end of the table looking to Hermione, "They've been good 'Mione. I've been working a lot, you know, at the Ministry of Magic…in the Law Enforcement Division." His eyes shifted back to Malfoy, "Had a good week we did; sent away five Death Eaters," a sneer spread across his face, "soon to be six."

Hermione heard Ginny drop her fork and Harry's arm move in Ron's direction. She quickly glanced at Malfoy, who had lost interest in his food and was now glaring daggers at the wizard at the head of the table. "Ron that is quite enough!" Hermione bellowed, "Malfoy is a guest in this house and he will be treated as so until other plans are made! Please be _respectful_ Ronald!" he looked down to his food once more, muttering to himself, avoiding Ginny's murderous gaze.

Harry took the opportunity to change the subject, hopefully getting away from Ginny and her wrath. He cleared his throat and looked across the table to Hermione, "May I have a word with you and Malfoy please?" Hermione's stomach dropped. This was it; this was Harry's news. But why was she being called with him? Her question was quickly answered as soon as they entered the reading room and Harry spoke again, "'Mione, I brought you in here too because I didn't want you in the kitchen right now, and I figured you would hear about this soon enough," He stared at them awkwardly clearly not wanting to say what came next, "Malfoy…your trial date has been announced. It will be in the papers tomorrow I presume, which is why I came over here tonight. I wanted you to hear it from me. The trial will be in 6 weeks: September 30th."

Hermione turned her gaze to Malfoy; he was a stone, not letting any emotion pass out of him. "Thanks Potter" he muttered and walked out of the room and up the stairs.

"What's gotten into him?" Hermione heard Ron shout rudely from the kitchen. Soon after she heard shuffling and re-entered the kitchen to see Ginny with a firm grasp on Ron's robes, Ron looking utterly terrified. Harry leaned over and whispered that they were leaving. She hugged him goodbye and flashed a sympathetic look Ginny's way; she had only been trying to help. She sighed as they walked into the floo, disappearing, Ron would eventually come around.

She then magically cleaned the kitchen, something she rarely did, but she had different matters to attend to. She tiptoed up the stairs and approached Malfoy's door. She just wanted to check on him, make sure he was ok. She knocked once and cracked open the door, "Malfoy? Can I come in?" His gaze did not change but he mumbled a quiet approval. She quietly walked in and closed the door behind her. His room was so plain, nothing personal at all. She noticed the suit he had wore for his birthday was laid out on a chair, and that the small journal she had given him a week earlier sitting on his desk. She looked at him; his back turned away from the door, looking out his dark window. His back was slumped and he slowly lowered his head as she carefully sat next to him, "Are you alright?" she questioned softly.

Draco sighed and ran a nervous hand through his blonde hair, "I can't say that I was surprised, but I can't say that I'm not scared either." He started in whisper, "I've seen what that place does to people; what it's done to my father." Hermione wanted to touch him, to comfort him, to hug him and baby him until he didn't hurt anymore, but this was Malfoy not a small first year.

She brought her hand up and massage his shoulder, "It will be alrigh…"

"He loves me you know – my father – he does." He started, shifting his weight to look at her, "He's a good man – a sometime confused and detached man – but good nonetheless. Remember when you said that you saw me with my mom in the Great Hall? He told me then. He said, 'Son, I loved your mother very much, and I love you. And I'm sorry. I will rot in Azkaban for my mistakes.' But I'm not like him. I'm not confused or detached. I know!" Hermione was taken aback, there was so much fire in his voice. He stared out the window again for a long time, not saying anything. Eventually, he looked to his hands again, his voice softening, "But I messed up; I did the wrong thing. And I'm sorry. I will rot in Azkaban for my mistakes."

Hermione had never seen so much passion in Draco Malfoy's young eyes. They were wide and he was speaking quickly. Hermione brought both her hands to his face, turning it to look at her, "Shhhhh" she whispered to him, watching him calm at her touch. She looked into his eyes as he had done to her a week before, but there was no happiness like before, only worry. Hermione knew then: Malfoy had not wanted this; he had never wanted this! Malfoy was not evil.

She gaze dipped to his lips, soft and gentle, then back to his worried eyes. She slowly approached her face towards his; longing to feel the tenderness that she had felt one night a week ago, but a strong hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Hermione, I can't do this now," Draco said quietly, "I think you should go." His face was still warm in her hands, but his eyes did not look back at her, they were looking down to the bed once more. She lowered her hands, raised herself and quietly walked out of the room, neither of them saying another word.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: hello everyone! Hope you're all liking this so far! What does everyone think of the developments between Draco and Hermione? How about Ron testing Draco?

Thought I would remind you – Harry Potter does not belong to me, but to the brilliant JK Rowling

Enjoy

Chapter 12: 

Harry rubbed his eyes once more, trying to concentrate on the paperwork in front of him. He skimmed through the form: yet another case that he would need to testify for. But Harry was being productive, finally working hard after days of absentmindedness. He had managed to let the cloud of Draco Malfoy's case leave him and was now able to focus on things he needed to like the Order or his job at the Ministry. The Order had remained the same after the war, but the Ministry had faced a few changes. For one, the Order and the Ministry were practically the same thing. Most members in the Order of the Phoenix had a position under the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry, as natural head of the Order, was given the liaison position between the Auror Department and the Minister himself. He was constantly busy, interviewing suspects and convicts, visiting crime scenes, and filling in the Kingsley about the happenings in his department. Harry found his job fulfilling – it was what he had always wanted – but he was beyond exhausted, especially now.

It had been a few days since he had informed Malfoy and Hermione about the trial date, and had heard nothing from either of them. He assumed that no news was good news when it came to Malfoy. He had recognized his look – one of no emotion. It was what the Malfoys could do best. What Lucius had taught Draco at a young age: they had the keen talent to turn off their emotions like a switch, appearing at just a blank, nonchalant face. Harry was sure that Draco was nervous and scared about his court date – as any other normal witch or wizard would be – but he just did not show it to him. Harry shook his head and scolded himself for letting his thoughts wander to Malfoy again…he needed to focus on his overdue paperwork!

Just as he regained his concentration on the sheet on his desk, there was a light knock at his office door. Harry looked up to see Hermione quietly sliding into his office. She had not put herself together as she usually did when she left Grimmauld Place. She was wearing simple jeans paired with a t-shirt that was too large. Her hair was piled in a messy ponytail. She looked as though she had not been sleeping well.

"Hi Harry," Hermione started, "Can I bother you for a second?"

Harry swallowed his annoyed feelings, "Of course, Hermione. Is everything alright?" He watched as she sat down across from him, glancing down at her hands nervously. Harry's mind instantly jumped to the possibility that something may have gone wrong with Malfoy. His stomach dropped, "Does this have to do with Malfoy, Hermione?" Harry's mind whirled. What if he had taken it so badly that he had taken it out on Hermione? Had he hit her? Worse?

Her head whipped up, "No!" she paused looking back at her hands, "Well yes, but it's not what you think – he didn't do anything bad." Harry let out an inward sigh of relief. He would never forgive himself if he had put Hermione had been hurt by Malfoy – _his _captive. Harry listened to her intently as she continued, "Well, the night you told Malfoy and I about his trial date, well we were sort of talking," she paused again. Harry could tell she was having difficulty phrasing what she was trying to say – something that seldom happened to the young witch. "He talked about his father…he got really emotional, Harry. He was talking about he had to pay for his dumb mistakes, and how he was wrong!" Hermione was talking louder now, slightly leaning forward towards him, "Harry, I don't think he ever wanted this! I don't think he's evil. He doesn't deserve what's coming to him. Harry, please tell me there's a way to stop his trial!"

Harry looked at the fervour in her eyes and how riled up she was – her chest rising and falling quickly as she calmed herself down. He had always known that Malfoy had never wanted to join the Death Eaters, and that he was not really an evil spirit. He was just flabbergasted that Hermione Granger – who had loathed Draco Malfoy with all her being until about a month ago – was sitting in front of him wanting to stop his trial. "'Mione, there's no way that we can stop his trial," he started sadly. She immediately frowned, her brow "But there is a way to get him cleared. You need to gather information for his case and present it to the Wizengamot. You need to prove what you just told me to the court in that room."

Hermione stood up then, her eyes a flame with a look and ardour he knew well, the thrill of adventure. It was something he had not seen in Hermione since before the war. He then knew that Malfoy was in good hands; Hermione would pour over books and precedents, and talk to him over and over getting his recount of every moment. Malfoy would hate her at the end, as he and Ron had hated her after hours of research and questions, but she would get him off. If anyone could get Malfoy out of a life sentence in Azkaban it was Hermione Granger.

ooooooooooo

"MALFOYY!" Draco sat straight up in his bed – Hermione – she was shrieking his name; something was wrong! He threw his sheets aside and ran out the door, not even bothering to put on clothes or check himself in the mirror. He barrelled down the stairs and into the kitchen to see Hermione standing in the middle of the kitchen, by herself, in no danger whatsoever.

"What? What is it? Are you alright?" he asked anxiously looking around the kitchen looking for the source of her screaming. Nothing. She may not have been in immediate danger, but maybe something had happened. Bad people could be coming! He quickly grabbed her arm and yanked her forward toward the stairwell. He felt himself starting to lose control. He hadn't felt this much thrill and anxiety since the war. He looked at her standing in front of him, her gaze was relaxed and not fearful, there was even a small smile creeping onto her face.

"Malfoy, I need to ask you a few questions, but could you first put some clothes on please." She answered him trying to stifle a giggle. He then realized just how bare he was. He was standing in the middle of the kitchen, in front of Hermione Granger, in only his boxer shorts. He released his death grip on her arm as though she was burning him.

A scowl spread across his face, "Next time you want to call me, please don't sound like you're being Crucioed." He returned upstairs in a huff, jumping into the shower and letting the hot water relax him. He would take his time. He would get dressed and comb his hair, and only grace Granger with his presence when he was truly ready. Malfoys did not like being startled awake.

He descended the stairs again half an hour later at a much slower pace than before, letting his feet linger on every step. He found Granger in the kitchen nose buried in a book with a piece of parchment next to her. Draco watched as she scribbled something onto the page and looked up at him. Her hair was a little bit frizzier than normal, and her eyes had a look that he had seen so many times before at Hogwarts – Granger was onto something.

"Sit down," she motioned towards the seat across from her, nose still in her book. The blonde took his seat slowly and looked at her quizzically, "I need to ask you a few questions…about your past." Draco leaned his back against his wooden chair; he had known she was onto something. But what was she inquiring about? He wondered what her first question would be; he also wondered what his answer would be. Would he answer her questions? His thoughts travelled to his trial – was she on his side?

"Malfoy, some of these questions might be a little tough for you, but please – for your own sake – answer them honestly" Hermione started looking at him sternly. Malfoy then knew that this was no personal conversation they were having over drinks; this was all business. "Can you remember the first time you encountered Voldemort's forces or influence?"

Draco genuinely laughed, "Are you serious Granger? Is that a serious question?" he waited for her to tell him otherwise, that she was just teasing him, but she just returned his stare. Oh God, she was serious! "Granger, I've been around Voldemort's_ forces or influence_ my entire life! My father was a Death Eater, my godfather was a Death Eater, my aunt was a Death Eater, my uncles were Death Eaters, my entire bloody family was under _Voldemort's force or influence_! Next question."

Her face reddened slightly as she absorbed his response but she pressed on, "When was the first time that you personally experienced Voldemort's power. For example, when did you first become aware that you would take the Mark?" she asked as her eyes darted towards his left arm. Draco's eyes lowered to the table; how was he going to answer this? Would his answer make Hermione think less of him?

She had told him to answer truthfully so he did, "I was summoned to my first meeting when I was fifteen," he answered keeping his eyes lowered, "My father had just been sent to Azkaban for the run-in with you lot at the Ministry. The Dark Lord told me that he had just come up with an idea as to how I could mend my father's mistakes. He told me I was supposed to be his _special spy_ at Hogwarts. I was thrilled. I had never felt so needed before. He does that; the picks your weakness, then sucks it for all its worth." Draco sighed looking to Hermione for any response, but she was furiously scribbling down every word he had said. "He told me that by the end of my sixth year I was going to let senior Death Eaters in Hogwarts and _dispose _of Dumbledore. Just like my father had done before me, I swore my allegiance to the Dark Lord, saying that I would carry out his plan. He then dismissed me telling me that my family would be so proud. I barely made it back to my quarters before I vomited." Draco continued to look at his hands knowing that she was intently staring at him. He couldn't stand to look at her right now.

"So why did you do it?" she asked gently. Draco could tell that she had switched from Ministry Granger to the Hermione that had comforted him in his room a few days earlier. She was looking at him – into his eyes – she seemed to genuinely want to know the answer.

He looked up at her inquiring brown eyes, "I did it for my family Granger. As much of a tosser and fuck-up my father was, I still loved him, and the Dark Lord told me I could get him back." Hermione seemed to digest his answer, thinking hard about his words. She then frantically scribbled something on the parchment, drawing a circle around the short sentence she had just scribed. Ministry Granger had returned once more.

"Even though you let Death Eaters into the castle that one night, Snape – not you – killed Dumbledore. What happened when Voldemort realized this?"

Draco winced recalling the memory, "He tortured me Granger, what do you expect? He told me I had only carried out half of my task. He said that I could have my useless father back, but that our family would personally pay for my mistakes." He looked down at his hands again. He would never admit it to Granger, Voldemort's words marked the moment when Draco felt the most ashamed in his entire life. He had let his family down. The taste of bile was seeping up into his mouth, his anger and shame was mounting again, "Granger, why are you asking me this?" he asked hesitantly.

Hermione had been writing intently on her messy piece of parchment, "Because Malfoy, not all Death Eaters deserve to go to Azkaban for the rest of their lives." She answered sheepishly.

Draco suppressed the blush fighting to creep across his face; Granger was fighting for him! But why? Why would Gryffindor Princess fight for the Slytherin Prince? He _had_ committed those crimes, there was no denying it, he was guilty. "Granger, I'm a lost cause. You should help people who need it."

"Malfoy, you of all people need this!" she answered raising her voice slightly.

Draco stood up at this remark, "I get it now! I'm your Ministry charity case, aren't I Granger?" he ran a shaky hand through his blonde hair, "You're just fighting for me to boost yourself aren't you? I must admit Princess, how very Slytherin of you!" he turned on his heel and made his way for the stairwell. The taste of bile and stomach acid crept into his throat again; he was being played.

"Draco, you know it's not like that! I know that you didn't want any of it! You're not evil! You're not like the rest of them!" she yelled at his back, standing up now and stepping around the table towards him, "Please just let me help you." Her tone was quiet, almost pleading.

He turned to her, "I may not have wanted to do it, but I still did it. I may not be like them, but I was still one of them. I am still guilty."

oooooooooooo

Draco's voice was calm and steady as he turned back into the stairwell and quietly returned upstairs. Hermione stood, shocked. Draco had admitted that he may not have wanted or liked what he had participated it, but he had still done it. He thought that he was guilty. Draco Malfoy seemed to think that he deserved the lifelong sentence to hell.

Hermione retook her seat at the kitchen table and reflected on what had just happened. Why was she helping him? Was he really a charity case for her? No – she wanted to do this. Draco Malfoy may not have been innocent of his crimes against the Wizarding World, but he was not like every other Death Eater. Voldemort had used his love and loyalty for his family against him, forcing him into taking the Mark and becoming a Death Eater. She wasn't doing this to just advance her career; she was doing this for his own good. He wasn't like his father or his aunt. He did not idolize Voldemort, he despised him.

Hermione knew what she had to do then. She reviewed the quick notes she had taken during her conversation with Draco, and looked back to the large book laying in front of her titled _'Wizarding Law'_.

Her mind flashed back to fifth year when she had been studying mind connections and Legimency in efforts to cut the connection between Harry and Voldemort. Ron and Harry had protested and yelled, telling her that her endless research and lecturing was for no use. They had gotten to upset with her, but she had never given up. She had done it anyway. That was what friends did for each other plain and simple. When you love and care for someone, you do everything in your power to keep them safe and happy; Malfoy was her friend. She cared for him.

Malfoy would be ready to kill her by the time his trial would arrive. She would question and research and prod and probe, but she would get to the bottom of it. Hermione Granger would make Draco Malfoy a free man.

oooooooooo

The Dark Lord stood tall in front of him. Lucius Malfoy was not a short man, but Lord Voldemort seemed to tower over his head. He quickly read the Dark Lord's expression – he was displeased. His thin lips were sloped downward and his brow was furrowed as he was in thought.

"Now now Lucius, no need to become _impatient_." he hissed. Lucius shuddered slightly. He was afraid of the Dark Lord and his wrath, especially this night. This was night that he would officially kill Harry Potter. Lucius had ought to be ecstatic with joy and envy – it was every Death Eaters dream to kill The-Boy-Who-Lived. But his mind was elsewhere.

"Please my Lord, I must find them. If only so that they can share this joyous moment with us!" Harry Potter had finally wandered into the woods after the Dark Lord threatening his friends and loved ones – the boy was so predictable – but Draco and Narcissa were nowhere to be found. He wanted to find them, no he needed to!

"Fine you have five minutes," Voldemort said impatiently, "Tie him up!" he yelled to the others. Lucius did not hear the rest of his Lord's words because he bustled into the movement. He ran through the Forbidden Forrest and into the action. He dodged curses and hexes just in efforts to find his family. He spotted Bellatrix and his wife talking quickly near the entrance to the castle. Narcissa looked distraught. She quickly turned and ran towards the steps. Bellatrix raised her wand.

"No" he muttered as Narcissa fell face-first before the steps. He sunk to his knees as he watched Bellatrix skip gleefully over the body of her dead sister and into the castle. The scene started to move around him. It was though a hook was pulling his backwards, out of his thoughts, and back into reality.

He blinked a few times, embracing his newfound clarity. He stared through the bars separating him from freedom. The rust on them was starting to spread and the soot and grime was turning them dark. Lucius imagined their first days in commission, shiny and new, able to withstand anything. There was nothing on the other side of the bars, just darkness and another set of bloodshot eyes, gazing into the same shadows. Lucius sat like this often, just looking. Something he would think – of his son, his wife, his Lord, his mistakes – and other times he wouldn't think at all – simply let the emptiness claim him.

Today Lucius thought of his son. He wondered how he would be faring. He had not heard word that Draco had entered Azkaban, but he knew the time would come soon. His thoughts raced as he tried to imagine Draco in a cell near him. They would interact; talk even. Lucius really did love his son with all his heart. He would never forgive himself for what his poor, young son had to witness and live through. But Lucius knew Draco was strong, much stronger than he ever was. He had inherited his mother's power and will. They were both good hearted, unlike him, who always found evil nearby.

The old Malfoy peered down at his frail hands. Azkaban Prison had reduced him to a sack of bones. This was not like his last stint in Azkaban. There was no more hope left. He had lost all direction. He only held on to one thing – Draco.

He readjusted himself on his small cot, bringing his thin legs to his chest when he heard a shuffling down the hall. He braced himself for the chill of the dementors, the agonizing memories they would bring forth. But the figure in front of him was human – the first he had seen in a long while. Lucius felt a chill down his spine as the man opened his cell door with ease.

"Remember me?"


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Warning – this chapter is a little graphic (blood and gore). However, I really liked the challenge of writing it. You have been warned – Read and Review!

Chapter 13: 

The cellar of the Malfoy Mansion was cool and damp. There were no windows in this cellar – the exact reason why it had been used as a dungeon during the war. The man inhaled through his nostrils a nice distinctive breath. The cellar smelled funny – of mould and decay. The low arches of the ceiling seemed to be covered with moisture and upon closer inspection a thin layer of dark green – almost black – moss.

Rage bubbled within him. So many had suffered here. Yes, the Malfoys had acted mostly under duress from the Dark Lord, but they had their own secrets too. Only they knew how many screams had to be stifled by the charms cast on the rusting steel bars. His plan was simple – kill the Malfoys. However, the Malfoy clan was approaching its end – the only living members being Lucius and his son Draco. And they would be hard to get to. Lucius was locked in the most well guarded prison in all the Wizarding World, and son Draco had vanished into thin air. Thanks to his Ministry connections, he had learned that he was stowed-away at Harry Potter's home awaiting trial. His rage swelled once more as he thought that Harry Potter – defender of the Light and killer of Voldemort – could let such an atrocity occur. All Malfoys were guilty. All Malfoys deserved death.

With a final sniff the man turned on his heel and ascended the stairs into the Manor's main hall. After the war the Malfoy Manor had been emptied of all possessions. The walls – once donned with glamorous paintings and sculptures – were barren. He continued his stroll towards the front door but paused and turned around. This was the way the Manor should have been: empty, unimpressive, dead. He sneered – that's all the Malfoys were now anyways. At least one of them would be. Tonight, his plan would begin. The plan to avenge the one woman he loved the most in his life. The Malfoys had ruined her, and now he would ruin them. He turned around, walking out of the once grandiose home, and apparated on the spot.

oooooooooo

Harry ran cold water over his face trying to calm himself down. Nothing would be able to prepare him for what he was about to do. Nothing could erase what he had just seen. He sat down on his bed and ran a shaking hand through his black hair. Ginny sat on the other side of the bed, leaning against the headboard, legs pulled up to her chest. She wore a stunned and confused expression. Harry was not sure if she would cry or vomit.

"Harry. You have to tell him," she told him quietly, "He needs to know."

Harry nodded, "I know. I'm going," He stood and looked back at Ginny, silently nodding at him. She was reassuring him. She knew how hard this was going to be. Usually she would have comforted him, resting her small hand on his face or shoulder. Usually she would have offered to accompany him, to hold his hand through it. But she couldn't. The magnitude of what had just happened, and what Harry had to do stunned them both. Harry would do this alone.

Harry's morning had started normally. He had awoken to his alarm set far too early and shuffled groggily into his shower. He had donned his robes that he had chosen the night before and sat down at his table for a serving of Ginny's freshly cooked breakfast. She smiled at him as she set the steaming plate in front of him. Her eyes still looked sleepy and she had wrapped her robe loosely around her pale pink nightgown. He watched as her eyes darted towards the rumbling fireplace and as she jumped, startled, when Kingsley nearly fell from it.

"Harry! You must come with me immediately. There's been an attack!" Harry had no time to think about what had happened or who was in danger only that the Minister of Magic was squeezing his wrist and that the familiar compressing feeling of side-along apparition had taken over. The last thing he saw were Ginny's frightened eyes as he left the kitchen.

Kingsley let go of his wrist and Harry opened his eyes again. He was standing in Azkaban Prison. He felt some sort of relief that he was not standing in Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, or worse the Burrow or Grimmauld Place. He silently followed the Minister of Magic through dimly lit corridors full of solemn cells. The hushed sounds of inmates guided their way through the maze. The cold was near unbearable and Harry was beginning to feel empty and bleak – a common side effect of the guards of Azkaban.

Harry finally spotted a bright light – almost blinding – and made him realize how dark Azkaban actually was. As the pair approached the bright lights it was harder and harder to see. Harry's eyes finally adapted to the new light and human guards and Ministry workers began to move towards them.

"Minister, what will we do with the body?" asked a plump female Auror that Harry had seen around the Ministry before. She fell into stride with Kingsley as Harry followed behind them.

"How about notifying next of kin?" another Auror with sandy-blonde hair asked, walking on Kingsley's other side.

"Trudy. Paul. Those questions can be answered _after_ I inspect the crime scene," they both nodded curtly and bustled towards the blinding lights. Kingsley turned now to face Harry, "Harry, I must warn you," he started in a tone that strangely resembled Dumbledore's, "What you will see will appal you, but for your sake and for the ones you care about, I need you to be strong and save face." Harry nodded in acknowledgement but all he could think about were questions about this crime scene. Who had died? Did he know them? Why was it so important that he _save face_? He followed as Kingsley approached the cell illuminated in lights.

Harry saw what the light was directed at and felt bile surge out of his stomach into his throat. Lucius Malfoy was bound and gagged to a chair in the middle of his cell in a pool of his own blood. Harry had seen blood and gore before, but never as deliberate as this. Lucius sat ramrod straight in his chair, with course ropes snaking around his body. They started at his feet and ended at his neck. The flesh around the rope was raw and red and somewhat bulged – a sign that the poor man had been bound way too tight. The floor below Lucius' chair and feet was covered in a large pool of blood, the source of which seemed to be the eldest Malfoy's arm. Harry thought he would surely vomit then. Missing from Lucius' left arm was his Dark Mark.

"Who do you think did this?" Harry managed to stutter out. He was standing next to Kingsley now at the entrance to the small cell. He looked up at the Minister of Magic to see his eyes wide and jaw slack, as though a tired yawn were pulling at it.

"We haven't been able to figure that out yet. There was no trace of magic and no weapons were left on scene. Of course the Aurors have a few ideas. Most likely an insane Death Eater who thought Lucius had betrayed them. They're the only people who could get him here." Kingsley answered solemnly. He started to move forward and allow the Aurors to take him through the crime and explain what they had discovered.

It took hours to process the scene. Harry and Kinglsey had to walked through every inch of the prison cell. They had to listen to testimony for every guard or inmate in Lucius Malfoy's vicinity. The two Aurors Trudy and Paul hadn't stopped babbling since Harry had arrived. His patience was running thin. Returning into the cell for the final check, he couldn't help but feel a cold chill run down his back.

Harry eyed his old enemy, trying to avoid looking at the gaping hole in his left forearm. He was practically unrecognizable. All Malfoys were pale, but Lucius had become translucent. His neck and chest were covered with prison tattoos, and hair had grown even longer than before. Yet, his hair was no longer the classic platinum blonde colour, but a salt and pepper grey. It was wiry and oily sticking to his neck and face. His face was thin and his eyes sunken back into his head. His open, unseeing eyes were sad and had lost all fight and malice. Lucius Malfoy had aged. He looked as though he would have soon died in prison if the monster that killed him hadn't done it first. He looked around the room. There was a small cot with a thin, ruffled sheet on it. The floor was a cold, thick stone, now covered in crimson. In the opposite corner of the cell stood a small desk. There was a large group around it and Harry followed as Kingsley approached. There in the centre of the table was a chunk of Lucius arm tattooed with a fading Dark Mark. Underneath it, written in the eldest Malfoy's blood, said 'One Left'.

"We haven't really been able to figure out what this means Minister," the plump Auror Kingsley had called Trudy babbled, "We've tried everything. We stepped once to the left, looked left, we even looked in the cell immediately to his left. We just can't get it!" Harry was amazed at how bubbly and loud she was being right now. He fought the urge to shout at her.

Kingsley turned shakily back to Harry who was now fighting a cold sweat, "Harry. Do you know what this means?" The realization hit Harry so quickly he thought that he would fall over. He had to get out of there. Back to Grimmauld Place. As fast as he possibly could.

"Draco" he whispered. He looked to Kingsley's nervous eyes once more. Kingsley inclined his head ever so slightly giving Harry the permission he had been looking for. Harry turned on his heel and ran out of the cell down the whispering corridors and out into the evening sunset. The familiar squeezing sensation hit him before he could squint out the rays of sun.

ooooooooo

The man stood at the door of the cell and admired his work. Lucius Malfoy – his enemy from the start – was tied to a chair in the centre of the small room. He was sweating profusely and his breathing was laboured. His pale blonde hair was matted to the translucent skin of his wrinkled forehead. The man bore his teeth. Lucius deserved this. He deserved the pain in paying his debt for others. They had suffered worse: they had screamed, fought him even, but Lucius never batted an eye.

He watched as the eldest Malfoy's blood seeped onto the stone floor. What else could he do? What would really startle the Ministry? He looked at the bloody cloth he held in his hand. This was going to be his trophy; a way to always remember what he had accomplished to avenge her suffering. But trophies were a risk – they could be found. Why risk his anonymity when he could make a statement?

He set the bleeding piece of flesh in the centre of the desk off to the left of the cell and took the cloth, gingerly dipping it in the still breathing Malfoy's blood. As he knelt down next to the struggling man and grimaced, "It's a work of art isn't it Lucius. They'll find you dead and won't have a clue who killed you." He seemed to look down at the man with all the malice his energy could muster. He left Lucius to paint the small table, writing 'One Left' in his blood. He turned to see the eldest Malfoy still glaring at him. The man was unimpressed, "What is it Lucius, wanted to give your snake of a son a last goodbye?" At this Lucius writhed in his chair, muffled screams escaping his mouth. The man smiled, he knew he had hit the spot, "Don't worry. You can tell him yourself. You'll see him soon enough."

He did an about-face and sauntered out of the cell, not looking back to the Lucius – spending every last ounce of his energy until he went limp. He silently prowled the halls of Azkaban watching the white eyes of the inmates observing him. He finally approached the exit and before slipping out the doors, sent a curse screaming toward the direction of the presumably dead Lucius Malfoy's cell. It wouldn't be long, he thought, they would find his masterpiece soon.

ooooooooooo

Hermione leaned forward to set the heavy book down on the square coffee table and jot some notes. She skimmed what she had just written then rubbed her eyes. It seemed as though she had been reading for days. She leaned back again resting her back against the tall spine of the sofa chair. She watched as Draco slept contently on the couch next to her. She had been questioning him earlier about his past crimes and deeds. It had clearly drained him. She had begun delving deeper into his history and past actions, and he seemed to be becoming more and more uncomfortable. She thought of the questions she had asked him earlier, "Malfoy! Think! When did you figure out you father was a Death Eater?" She had not regretted her harsh tone then, but now she did.

Malfoy had grimaced and run his shaky hands down his face, "Granger for the fourth time: I don't KNOW!" he was getting frustrated with her, but she had continued to press him. At one point he had paced the room trying to remember. Then after finally answering that it "might have been first year when Professor Quirrell had visited the Manor one weekend then being dead the next," he had plopped down on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Hermione had gone back reading and scribbling notes down on her many sheets of paper and she had not noticed when the blonde lying across from her dosed off.

She scolded herself once more as she ran a clammy palm through her hair, gathering it into a messy ponytail. Her workload had definitely grown these past two weeks. She had taken it upon herself to help not only Harry, but also Draco, working through files and files of precedents. Everyday she was getting closer to proving that Draco had acted under duress and out of fear for his life and that of his family.

She had kept Harry informed of her progress everyday. She owled him at least three times a week writing lengthy letters and attaching documents and references. He seemed impressed and happy with her, but she knew that he was still stressing. That was Harry's downfall; he cared too much for those around him. He had to rescue Malfoy and Goyle from the Room of Requirement. No innocent blood should ever be spilt. Harry had always been vulnerable because of his weakness. Hermione remembered their fifth year when Harry had been positive that Sirius was trapped in the Department of Mystery. It had been Voldemort's trick. For a moment, the thought that Draco was manipulating them crossed her mind. No – he had changed. Draco had divulged more to her in the past two weeks than Ron had in the first six weeks of their romantic relationship.

She pulled her knees to her chest as she watched Draco sleeping across from her. He was troubled – even in his sleep. Not like that night when she had stumbled into his bedroom. Then his face had been relaxed, happy almost, but now it was only etched with worry. His eyebrows creased together and his eyes squinted. She watched as he twitched ever so slightly. He pursed his lips and his eyes fluttered – she could tell he was dreaming. His body was curled up like a child's and he hugged one of the sofa pillows to his chest. A smile crept across her face – he was still a child at heart. She had really learned a lot about him these past weeks and had really grown fond of him. Hermione blushed in embarrassment as she remembered what had happened a few weeks prior, when Harry had told Draco about his court date. She had been denied by him. Did he even like her? Surely he did because he had kissed her the night of his birthday. His lips had been so soft and gentle against hers.

The day after Draco had gently nudged Hermione out of his bedroom and denied her the chance of kissing him had been awkward. Hermione didn't know how to approach the situation and couldn't judge how he would act around her. She had started cooking breakfast for them and heard him bound down the stairs, "Oh good! You're up! I'm _starving_!" She was taken aback. How could he be so comfortable with her? Especially after the bad news that he had just received!

She mumbled back, "Oh right. Well I'm making eggs." She felt so weird and exposed. She hadn't felt this way since Ron had gotten together with Lavender. But she had eventually gotten over it. They were now acting just like they had been before Draco's birthday, before he had found out his trial was approaching quickly. They were friends. They would joke and laugh and talk. But they would never touch. God forbid his arm brushed hers or she poked him playfully. There relationship was painfully platonic. One touch could ruin all they had worked so hard to cover up.

Draco sniffling on the couch snapped her out of her thoughts. His jaw was clenched and his brows still creased. He twitched violently and his leg suddenly kicked out. Hermione realized he was having a nightmare. Should she wake him up? She would need to shake him. To touch his arm. Was that alright? Would he care? Would he be upset with her? She had read somewhere that waking people having sleepwalkers even those having nightmares could be bad. They could become disoriented or even aggressive. She could handle of disoriented or aggressive Draco Malfoy, right? She was so caught up in her thoughts that she did not even hear the fireplace rumble in the next room.

Harry practically fell into the reading room, startling Draco awake. Hermione squeaked in surprise, almost falling off her chair. She took one look at Harry's face and knew something was dangerously wrong. His hair was wild and unruly – more than usual – a sign that he had been running his hand through it numerous times. A worried frown was etched onto his face. Hermione had only really seen him this upset and nervous after they had nearly escaped Bill and Fleur's wedding. Draco jumped to his feet and Hermione could tell he sensed it too.

"Harry! I wasn't expecting you" Hermione asked. Harry walked further into the room so that he was directly in front of the standing Draco and still sitting Hermione.

"I have some bad news…" he blurted out, "Draco…" he paused and looked around the room nervously as though someone would jump out and attack them at any moment, "Your father's been murdered."

ooooooooooo

Draco was running. Towers of junk and books piled upwards around him. He was in the Room of Requirement. He turned his head quickly to look behind him and saw Crabbe and Goyle struggling to catch up with him. The room was unusually warm. His feet skidded to a halt as orange flames erupted in front of him. The Room of Requirement was on fire.

He stood stunned for several seconds unable to comprehend what was happening. "CLIMB!" Goyle screamed at him from behind. He whipped around to see him and Crabbe scaling the columns of books and rubbish. He started to climb too. As he got higher and higher he felt the heat licking at his feet. The fire was approaching them. He turned his head right and left checking if his friends were following him. He saw Goyle climbing under him, but Crabbe was nowhere to be seen. In far a corner the Golden Trio were fumbling with brooms. The red-head briefly let go of Grangers hand to grab a broom and hand it to her. Granger. Hermione. She was in trouble. His adrenaline rushed and he climbed higher. He and Goyle got to the top of the column just as the Trio flew over their heads. "They're going to leave us here!" he screamed in frustration.

Draco wasn't sure if they had heard him or not, but at that moment Harry, led by Hermione turned back towards them. Harry zoomed in front of her and scooped Goyle onto his broom and sped on. Hermione was getting closer to him and extending her arm. A surge of heat scarred Draco's face and he closed his eyes losing his balance and starting to fall backwards. In front of him somewhere in the distance he heard a dull rumble and someone stumble clumsily.

Draco opened his eyes not to see the cluttered mess of the Room of Requirement but instead the intricate pattern of the couch he had fallen asleep on. He readjusted his view to see Harry Potter regaining his balance in the doorway of the reading room. He stood fidgeting and his face streaked with worry. As a reflex, Draco stood up. He then realized that Hermione was sitting in the chair behind him, still shaken by Harry's loud entrance. The three of them stood staring at each other for several seconds before Hermione finally spoke, "Harry! I wasn't expecting you."

The black-haired wizard paced forward so that he was right in front of them. His eyes were shifting around the room and he was starting to break a sweat. If Potter had not looked so incredibly upset, then he would have probably cracked a snarky comment. "I have some bad news…" he started, his eyes finally falling on Draco, "Draco…your father's been murdered."

Draco's eyes narrowed. No. Harry Potter was messing with him. Lucius was untouchable. He could never die. His eyes circled around the room. Hermione had crumpled down and leaned her back against the chair. Her eyes were narrowed in thought and she was smoothing down her hair. A thing – he had learned – she only did when she was nervous or upset. Harry was still staring at him intently. This wasn't a joke. It wasn't a joke. He felt himself falling. Lucius was dead. He reached out a hand to grip the couch and steady himself. _His father was dead_. He had no one left. Not one single person. He was alone. "I think I need to go." He murmured. He released his hand from the sofa. His head was still spinning, but he would make it. He dry heaved feeling the bile starting to seep into his throat. He stumbled blindly up the stairs. Tears stung his eyes. He practically fell through his door and seemed to cross his room in one step. He collapsed on his bed and stared up at the ceiling trying to regain focus. He blinked a few times. The tears were falling freely. He was crying. Sobs racked his body. He tried to breathe to calm himself down. Nothing was working. He turned shakily to look out the dark window. His vision was blurred. He would never get out. He would die like his father. He was alone. He was dead.

He turned again on his back to look at his ceiling again. He counted his breaths, trying to make them deeper and deeper. He eventually calmed. He just lied on his bed eyes staring blankly. He was there for what seemed days. Not moving. Barely breathing.

He heard the quiet click of his door, but did not want to look at her. He felt her get onto his bed and shift onto her back. Her small framed radiated heat next to him. He glanced sideways at her. She lay on her back, just like him, and stared at the ceiling. Her soft hair was gathered by her shoulder. He looked back at the ceiling and wondered what she was thinking.

"Hey" she whispered quietly. He heard her turn her head to look at him, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. He silently waited and she eventually returned her gaze to the ceiling.

"Hey" he responded also in a whisper. They lied there together for several more minutes. Not talking, just staring at the ceiling. Draco liked this. He liked not being alone. He felt her start to move around and eventually she sat up and got out of his bed.

"Well I just wanted to check on you…" she said awkwardly, "Listen, Draco. I know your father and I never really got along, but he was still your father. I'm really sorry." He felt her eyes bore into him. He could barely stand it. "So…I'll just be going to bed." She started to turn and walk out of the room. Draco could stand it anymore.

"Hermione" he started and watched as she stopped in her tracks, "Stay…please. I don't want to be alone tonight." For the first time that evening he looked at her. He let her see. He showed her how hurt he was. He wanted her to be there with him. To hold him. To make it better. He wanted Hermione Granger.

A/N: I decided to take Parvati48's wise words and put these little blurbs at the end of my chapters! Just easier that way! Anyways…

So how do you guys feel right now? Too scary? Too bloody? Poor Draco is actually showing emotion for his father and to Hermione! What do you guys think about the way Lucius was murdered? Any thoughts on who could be the creepy lurking guy?

Thanks for reading! Read and Review!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: 

"Stay…please. I don't want to be alone tonight." She heard him say in barely a whisper. Hermione watched as Malfoy raised his eyes to hers for the first time that night. All she could see was sadness. He looked as though he would crumble at any second. She silently approached the bed, still watching him. She climbed up kneeling in front of him. She paused for a moment, if only to seek his permission, and wrapped her arms around him. She held him as tight as she could. She didn't want him to be alone tonight.

She felt him instantly melt into her. He exhaled into her neck as he wrapped his arms around her frame. They held each other for a while. Hermione was starting to get tired, but dared not move. Draco needed her. He was comfortable with her. As though he had read her mind, he slowly released her and lied back, looking at the ceiling once more. She silently shifted to join him, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Better now. Go to sleep." he answered monotone as he threw the covers over the both of them and closed his eyes. His face was relaxed and angelic. His hair was slightly messy, but in an acceptable and proper way. He took a deep breath shifting closer to her and relaxed further. How could he be so calm? This was what frustrated her about Draco. He had just let her in, letting her comfort his pain, but then he shut off once more and went to bed. With her. She was in his bed!

It wasn't until then that Hermione grasped that Malfoy actually expected her to spend the night with him. Her senses seemed to heighten. The room was suddenly very dark. Draco was asleep. He was twitching and occasionally his leg would graze hers. His room smelled funny. Like the scent of man mixed with wet wood. Draco touched her again, this time putting his arm around her waist and pulling her to him. Her mind went into overdrive. He was touching her! Did she like this? What would she do? Should she leave?

"I can hear you thinking," he mumbled into her ear. She froze, "Stop." Her ear tickled from his warm whisper. His hand descended down to her bare stomach. Her shirt had ridden up! Her cheeks flushed red as she felt his thumb subtly stroke the soft skin under her belly button. Goosebumps erupted on every inch of her skin. Hermione tried to breathe. It proved difficult, but he was warm, inviting. With each breath she felt herself relax into Draco. Eventually, she closed her eyes and drifted to off to sleep.

oooooooooo

The man entered the empty Manor once more. The chair was right where he had left it. He sat down on it and looked around the room. He let the size of the room sink it first – it was enormous. He wondered what it would have been like before the Ministry had emptied the Manor. The faded emerald green colour of the wall would have been covered with elegant paintings of ancestors and of wealth. Small, ornate tables would stand on the outskirts of the room, showing off beautiful artefacts that only the Malfoy's could afford. He imagined people dancing in the large room. Narcissa Malfoy probably fussing about the catering or with guests. Even for him, Narcissa seemed to be the epitome of a good hostess. Young Draco would be sulking in corner, upset that his mother had dragged him to a boring ball. Lucius would most likely be in his study, away from the bustle, with his closest confidants, talking about conquests, prisoners, and their Lord.

With his thought the wispy man stood up off the chair and walked out of the room. He walked through the dark, barren halls into a smaller ballroom. This ballroom was much darker. The wallpaper had been seared and burned presumably because of curses that had once flown across the room. At the end of the room was a small alcove with stairs leading downwards. He stopped at the top of the stairs staring down to the barred doorway. There was no light down there, just darkness and a dank must.

This was where they kept her. She was there in the dark, sitting on the damp stone. His anger flared. This had ruined her. The Malfoys had _ruined_ her. Before she was charming, bubbly. Now she was skittish and had pulled back into herself. Her once shining and happy face was now wrinkled with worry and sorrow. Her gleaming gold hair had faded and lost its shimmer. He stepped through the threshold and looked around the sombre room. Was there a part of her left down here? Something he could bring home to her when he returned? Something that would make her better or bring her back?

The empty room just stared back at him. There was nothing he could do. Luna would be gone forever. She would always be different; always scarred from the horrors of the Malfoy Manor. There was only one thing he could do to avenge Luna – he would kill Draco Malfoy and burn the Manor. Nothing would be left to remind Luna of her pain. She could begin to heal. Become a real person again. Her personality and livelihood would reappear. This dark period in her life would just be ashes. Burned away with Draco and his vile Manor. The fire blazed in his eyes. The time would come soon.

oooooooooo

Hermione was oddly warm as she was raised from unconsciousness. As she strained to open her eyes she realised just how warm she was, as though a radiator was pressed up against her back. Moving her hands to wipe the sleep from her eyes, she felt the pressure of a human arm on her waist. Her eyes shot open as she pulled herself from a still sleeping Draco's grasp. She had slept in his bed! She had let him put his arm around her! What had she done?

Draco stirred, clearly sensing her absence and pulled the blanket to himself. Hermione relaxed as he went back into a deep sleep. She shifted onto her back, staring at the ceiling in thought. She had just shared a bed with Draco Malfoy. The same Draco Malfoy who had tormented her all through Hogwarts. The same man sporting only boxers and loose white shirt, tangled in the sheets next to her. The events of the night past flooded into her head. His eyes. His sorrow. He had practically begged her to stay with him that night and she had obliged him.

Had she liked it? Well she had slept well, not realising that he was sleeping next to her until she had awoken. She was only doing this as his friend. He needed her. There was nothing else between them, was there? She exhaled loudly, she hoped not.

"Granger, I can hear you thinking again," Draco mumbled groggily. Hermione was startled by his movement towards her. She wasn't quite sure how to react. "Mmmm…you're warm," he said nestling like a child against her and closing his eyes again.

"Ugh…Sorry, I mean, thank you." She had become so uncomfortable with him pressed up against her. This was so foreign. Ron had never done things like this. She had never cuddled before. She watched as he sat up, sensing her discomfort.

"Did you at least sleep well?" he asked with a smirk on his face knowing that she was overanalysing every second of their encounter.

"Mhmm" Hermione answered, propping herself on her elbows, inclining herself toward him, "How did you sleep?"

"All things considered, I think I slept quite well," he let himself plop down next to her and looked at the ceiling for a moment then turned his gaze toward her, smirking, "Granger, did you know that you snore?"

"I do not snore!" she retorted sending a pillow flying his way. She laughed out loud with it hit him square in the face. They sat there laughing together for a few minutes. Hermione laughed because she had hit him with a pillow, but also because she had just spent the night with Draco Malfoy. If she could only see Harry and Ron's reactions.

Their day progressed slowly. Hermione had cooked them both breakfast and had returned to working. She spent most of the day scribbling about Draco's reaction to his father's death and what she had seen in his eyes last night. A light blush crept across her cheeks as she noted that Draco Malfoy had asked her to spend the night with him. Clearly this showed a lapse in his judgement; the power his father and family had over him. Last night was definitely a one-time thing, she concluded to herself. It was not Malfoy's type to beg for comfort and warmth. He was cold and independent. He didn't need anyone but himself. But she still felt his warmth against her back. She still felt his thumb brush the patch of skin underneath her bellybutton. His warm breath whispering in her ear. She sighed and shook her head. Work was driving her crazy.

She got up and checked the clock – seven o'clock. Malfoy would be hungry soon. She walked into the kitchen to see a mop of shining blonde hair on the table. He was seated at the table, face down, resting his head on his elbow. He didn't even shift as she magically starting heating a pot of water on the stove.

"Are you alright?" she questioned. His lack of movement was kind of starting to scare her. He cleared his throat and quickly sat up. His eyes were bloodshot. The reality hit Hermione like a ton of bricks – he was drunk, "Draco, are you drunk?"

"I just don't know what to do right now!" he started in a tone that was a little too loud, "I've tried everything, Hermione! I just can't stop thinking about it. He's really gone." He sounded so exasperated, so desperate. She had to proceed with caution. This was his most volatile state.

"Draco, then why are you drinking?" her tone was soft and kind. She didn't want to anger him.

"It's what you do! When you were sad, or angry, or confused you drank. Like that one time after Weasley left. I'm sad, angry, and confused!" he was yelling. His face was growing redder and redder. He suddenly slammed his head back down to where it had been before, in the crook of his elbow.

Hermione let him sit for some minutes. She focused on making him pasta, hopefully getting some food into his stomach before she took him up to bed. "Here," she started quietly placing a glass of water and a bowl of steaming pasta in front of him, "are you hungry?" She watched, eating her pasta simultaneously, as he devoured his meal.

"That was tasty," he slurred looking at her, "Your food is always so tasty." It was time for bed she concluded.

"Draco, let's go to bed." She stood in front of him and walked toward the stairwell. He just stared at her, "What is it? I think you should go to bed, Draco."

"But I want you to hold my hand…" he mumbled. If she could only record this for him to see tomorrow, she thought to herself, he would surely smack himself in the face. He attempted to give her his version of puppy dog eyes. She gave in an approached him again and extended her hand. He eventually stood and took it, walking in front of her up the stairs towards his room. He opened the door without a care and took off his clothes. She felt slightly uncomfortable with how easily he could disrobe in front of her. It would definitely be the contrary in her case. He got into bed, sliding under the covers, and looked at her, "Aren't you coming?" he asked patting the spot next to him on the bed. The same spot she had slept in the night before.

"I don't think so Draco," she responded politely, "I still have a lot of work to do."

"But I want you to," he murmured giving her a sad look.

"I'm sorry! I'll see you tomorrow." She watched as he nodded turning away from her and lying still. She crept out his room and back down to her books and notes with a strange feeling in her stomach. Maybe it wasn't the work that was driving her crazy.

oooooooooo

The Slytherin Common Room was darker than normal. Draco moved off the couch and peered out the windows. The water of the Black Lake outside of the Common Room windows were not the dark blue they usually were, but rather a pitch black. A few bubbles crept across his few. Being underwater was something that Draco loved about the Slytherin Common Room. It was a house secret that most other Hogwarts students didn't know. It made him feel special, dangerous even. He remembered the first time he saw the Giant Squid creep past the tall windowpanes. But today was different. Something was off.

He moved even closer to glass to inspect what could possibly be different. But he was immediately blinded by a flash of light. Draco strained to see through the white light, but he couldn't. All he could see were three forms floating past the frame. Finally covering his sore eyes, he took a step back. He opened them, but the water was dark once more. He retreated and sat back down, but something still bothered him. He knew this strategy, he had seen it somewhere before.

Minutes went by, and he lost focus on the window, eventually flipping through the Quidditch magazine he had been reading. There was a slight patter. Like water dripping on the ground. Draco ignored it; when your Common Room is underwater, sometimes water manages to seep in. The pattering grew louder, sort of like a tap. It was becoming distracting, annoying even. He looked up from his magazine now, towards the window. It was black once more, and not surprisingly, there was water running down the edge. The tap sounded again, this time only louder, and Draco's blood ran cold as he saw a pale finger hit the dark window.

The blinding light hit his retinas again, but this time Draco was expecting it. He stepped towards the window and squinted his eyes. The same three forms were there. No there were four! Finally, Draco's eyes adjusted and he was able to see the atrocities before him.

Voldemort stood in the centre weightless with a wicked smile on his face. He seemed to breathing fine, no Gillyweed, no Bubble Charm. His mother was closest to him, she was suspended under Voldemort, clearly dead. Draco swallowed, to the Dark Lord's left was his father. Lucius' eyes were wide looking straight through the window at his son, and hands bound behind his back. He had a Bubble Charm around his mouth and nose. Voldemort grinned as he looked to his right. He was holding the wrist of Hermione Granger, also with a Bubble Charm around her mouth and nose. She looked frantic: screaming and kicking against the water around her.

A wicked grin appeared on his pallid face. He looked to his left first and placed a hand on his father's shoulder. Lucius did not seem to notice. He just looked straight ahead of him, eyes glancing back and forth from Narcissa lying dead on the floor to Draco beyond the window. Voldemort shifted his glance to the thrashing Hermione on his right. He did not extend an arm out to her or even attempt at subduing her. He just watched her. His gaze returned to Draco's and he smiled wider.

Draco closed his eyes tight – he was dreaming. This wasn't real. Voldemort was dead. Potter had killed him months ago! Opening his eyes once again, he came to terms with the fact that this was all a fabrication of his mind; it was all a dream. But Voldemort's high-pitched slither took over his brain.

"You must chose, Draco" and the Bubble Charms around Hermione's and his father's faces disappeared.

ooooooooooo

Hermione awoke to Draco's yelling in the room next door. He just kept saying no. She assumed he was having a nightmare and let her eyes drift closed once more. This was normal she thought to herself. She had had nightmares for almost two months after the war. It was only normal that Draco was struggling with the murder of his father. It would surely haunt him for the nights to come. She dozed off again listening to her thoughts, not hearing the shuffling around the room next door.

She sat straight up in her bed when she heard her door open. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the light flooding her room, but she knew exactly who it was. There he stood, in his shorts. He was breathing heavy and beads of sweat covered his body. His platinum blonde hair was going in every direction. He looked as though he had just ran a marathon in the rain. He burst into the room without waiting for her approval – something he had never done. He sat on the edge of her bed and let his head fall in his lap. She just sat there in her bed, shuffling back so she could rest her back against the headboard. He simply sat at the end of her bent, head in his hands, trying to steady his laboured breathes.

"Bad dream." He managed to get out. His voice was hoarse and ragged. She shifted left in her bed, and pulled back the covers. She would get him asleep then reassess the situation later. This wasn't typical Draco Malfoy. He had come to her. He needed her. He didn't need anyone.

At her cue, he shuffled back laid next to her. His breath was still heavy and laboured. His eyes were closed. His face was red and sweaty. Taking his head in her lap, she did what she had done countless times with Harry and Ron to calm and relax them. She stroked his hair and kept her breath calm and slow. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked in a quiet voice, hand still in his hair. He shuffled closer to her enjoying her touch and shook his head no. Of course he didn't – he was Draco Malfoy. His breathing eventually slowed and he managed to close his eyes. She shifted away from him slightly, letting him put his head on the pillow.

Still stroking his hair, she watched him sleep. He was troubled – clearly afraid to go back to sleep. He was afraid of the dreams that were waiting for him. Hermione wanted to comfort him, to get closer to him than she already was. She felt the thoughts begin to flood in. She wanted to overanalyse her feelings, to get swept away in her fantasies as she always did. But she remembered what Draco had said to her the night before – how she needed to stop thinking. And she did just that. She bent down and kissed his hair and leaned back, nestling into his chest.

She fit here. He was warm, wrapping his strong arms around her. She liked this. She wanted this. She remembered this feeling. The one she got when she looked at Ron her fifth and sixth year. She liked Draco – and more than just a friend. She never thought it would actually happen, but it was. Letting her eyes close for the last time that night, she told herself that she would act on her feelings to next morning. There was a reason she was in Gryffindor!

A/N: Another Chapter up! What do you guys think about how dependent Draco has become on Hermione? Do you think Hermione will follow through with telling Draco how she really feels about him? Could this be the beginning of their relationship? What about the charges on Draco? The plot thickens….and only I know what happens muhahahahaha

Hope you liked it! Read and Review! Love you all!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Lavender Brown opened the window to small apartment that her and Ronald Weasley shared in Hogmeade, and peered out on the small, sleepy town. No one had woken up yet, not even the shop owners. Usually by this time, you could see and hear the shop keepers bustling around the city, preparing for a busy days work. Their apartment was a modest size, with two rooms – their bedroom, and a larger common area with a kitchen. The location was perfect for them Lavender was close to any shopping she would ever need, and Ron was within walking distance of Weasley Wizards Wheezes so he could visit George whenever he pleased. She liked it here – she had chosen it. Lavender had been living in this quiet apartment for almost a year before Ron had shown up on her doorstep, begging her to take him back. They had been in touch sporadically since the war, but not romantically since she had stormed out of the infirmary after Ron had been poisoned their sixth year. Lavender was not unhappy being Ron – she did love him – but she knew that he would always have feelings for Hermione, and once his anger subsided, he would go back to her…just like he always did. But maybe this time was different – Hermione had left _him_, not the other way around. Surely she had moved on. Something had to be brewing in the house between her and Malfoy. Ron wouldn't leave her her this time.

She allowed a large, brutish owl to land on her windowsill and unfastened the Daily Prophet and Quibbler from it. Giving the bird its compensation, it flew away and Lavender closed the window, looking back at Ron's sleeping form. He was practically hanging off the bed, mouth open, snoring like a banshee. She sat back on the bed, settling in to read the headlines of both publications. Her eyes focused on the bold words of the Daily Prophet, and she gasped dropping the paper onto her lap and startling Ron awake.

"_LUCIUS MALFOY MURDERED IN AZKABAN!"_

"Ron look at this!" Lavender said as she handed the Daily Prophet to run and reading a similar headline on the Quibbler. She watched as he read through it, his eyebrows creased in an upset grimace.

"Well, I think that old bat had it coming! I'd like to know who's done it so I can shake their hand" he huffed setting the paper down on his lap.

"Ron!" Lavender yelled, "Why would ever wish death onto anyone?!" She couldn't believe that her boyfriend had just uttered those words. Draco Malfoy – as rude and tormenting as he was at Hogwarts – had just had his father. He would be grieving like any other human being. And what was worse, Draco had no one else to lean on. He didn't have a mother; he had no friends anymore; he would live the rest of his lonely life in Azkaban. Lavender Brown pitied Draco Malfoy, and she didn't comprehend why her boyfriend was being so thick. She understood that it was Lucius Mafoy – a man who had tormented him and his family for all his life – but why would he ever wish his death?! It was inhumane.

"Lav, this man gave my kid sister Voldemort's diary, which almost got her killed if you can remember!" He was getting redder and redder, and eventually shoved the paper in Lavender's direction, "Here, I can't even look at this anymore!" She glanced at it again, skimming the article once more.

"They say whoever is doing this is after Draco too…" she started warily, unsure if Ron wanted to pursue this conversation.

He turned from his path to the bathroom and said, "Good, I hope they get him, I hate that prat just as much, if not more, than his father!" And with that he marched into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Lavender sighed, Ron could be so ignorant sometimes.

The light from the window was shining straight into Draco's closed eyes. It was bothering him. He shifted away from it, stretching his legs out like a cat, then receding into a little ball. This didn't help; he was awake now. He opened his eyes to see Hermione Granger next to him, face completely relaxed, hair strewn all over her pillow. He could look at her for days. She was so calm, so carefree when she slept. Nowadays, all she did was stress about his trial, and work, and ask him question, then yell at him for not wanting to answer her questions. Her mind was always turning; she was always running in circles. When she slept, she wasn't thinking, she wasn't stressing. He liked her this way.

Draco looked around the room before setting his eyes back on Hermione. He liked her room. It felt like home. Both of their clothes were strewn around the room, books piled high on Hermione's side, opened and unopened. Hermione's jewellery covered the top of her dresser, and her closet door was opened and he could see her new and un-Grangerly clothes. It reminded him of when he was young, lying in his parent's bed weekend mornings. He could see into their closet; see their clothes, their messes, essentially their lives.

He had a little over two weeks until his trial now, and he and Hermione had been sleeping in the same bed for all that time. It started out that Draco just wanted her company and her comfort when he got his night terrors. Those nights he would fall asleep in his own bed, then jolt awake from a nightmarish vision, and creep into her bed, where she was awake waiting for him. She would stroke his hair until he fell back asleep, then nestle into his chest. She made him feel needed in a time when he felt utterly alone. That was a week ago. It had gotten to the point where now he couldn't sleep without her nearby. Their nights now consisted of dinner, which was spent eating with some occasional small talk. By then, they – especially Hermione – were so drained by the day's work, that they just weren't in the mood for talking. They would read together in the reading room usually until Hermione fell asleep with her book on her chest. He smirked – she did that every night without fail. Knowing that she would wake up to his movement, he would get up and head upstairs, getting ready for bed, and eventually sitting waiting for her in her bed. She would arrive – still in a sleepy haze – and undress, hopping in bed and falling immediately to sleep. When he had first tried this, he had expected her to get upset with him, rebuffing him completely. But she hadn't, and now they were here. He looked at her again and smiled; this was the best part of his day, when they could just quietly lay in each other's presence. He would miss this.

Draco had realized long ago that he cared for her deeply – more than he had ever expected. He had realized this the night of his birthday, when his hand was on Granger's face, and his lips were on hers. And his feelings were only solidified looking at her now. He just wanted to kiss her softly, to hold her. Draco shifted to look at the imperfect ceiling above him. He had never really felt this way before. He had always viewed girls around him as objects for him to use for his own pleasure. He usually got exactly what he wanted before he even had to ask. But Hermione was different; she didn't give him everything he wanted; he had to work for her affection. He _wanted _to be in her good graces, because he knew it was not an automatic thing. He didn't want to be anywhere else. But their affection had been something non-existent since his birthday. They barely touched each other, and if they did, he could practically hear Hermione spiral off into frantic thought. They were wary around each other: careful not to touch, say something too emotional, or – god forbid – talk about what was going on between them. He sniffed, turning back onto his side looking at Hermione's closed eyes again; Azkaban was going to be brutal.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open, but only just, the sun was beaming in her direction, "Like the view?" she said groggily, curling up into a little ball. Draco reddened in embarrassment; he had been caught.

"Can't complain" he retorted jokingly, usual smirk crossing his face. Hermione had completely opened her eyes now, and was mimicking his position, propping herself up on her elbow staring right back at him. They smiled and just stared at each other for a while. Draco was in bliss, but had to do something…it either had to stop completely or start completely. No more limbo. But before he could say anything, Hermione shifted to her back, looking up to the ceiling he had once looked at.

"Don't you wish we could just lay in this bed forever?" she said quietly. Darco inched towards her wanting to feel the warmth radiating from her small body.

"It's funny…I was _just _thinking about that" he said to her, smiling broadly. And with a swing of courage, he closed the space between them, wrapping his arm around her and pulling his body to her. He was immediately inebriated by her scent – honey and vanilla, and her hair was tickling his cheek as it rested on her shoulder. He fiddled with the cotton separating him from the soft, milky skin of her stomach, eventually falling to temptation and placing his hand on the bare skin. He smiled, he was so content, he didn't want to move ever. He squeezed Hermione closer, tilting his mouth closer to her ear, "I could be here _all _day."

Hermione felt his eyes watching her. She wouldn't move just yet, let him have some moments to himself. She felt like smiling. No one had ever just wanted to look at her before. Sure, Ron had loved her, and they had had a great run, but he had never watched her the way Draco would. He would look her as though he were trying to memorize every little detail of her face – her nose, her eyelashes, the cracks on her dried lips – then reanalyse her face to see if anything had changed. He would do this while she ate, while she worked, while she read, even while she slept.

She had sworn to herself that she would soon have "the talk" with Draco. Things were getting awkward. Touching was strictly off limits lest she get sucked into the overthinking the entire situation. She had mustered up the courage the first night Draco came into her room, intending to speak to him the next morning. She had woken up nestled into his chest with his secure grasp around her. She felt so comfortable and right here, and she didn't want to ruin it, at least not yet. Just a little bit longer. However, she had never anticipated their "thing" to last until now. She would hear Draco screaming at night and crawling into her bed sweaty and dishevelled. She would just comfort him, hold him. But eventually, Draco just started waiting for her to go to bed, following her into her room. They had become so accustomed to each other's presences. He had an entire routine and methodology that Hermione had begun to notice. But then again so did she. They had both fallen into a sort of rhythm that would not exist without the other.

They would wake up, usually Draco first, who would wake Hermione when he would slither into the bathroom and eventually into the shower. Hermione would then wake up and cook for breakfast in her pyjamas, reading the headlines of the Prophet and Quibbler. Draco would come down, and they would eat together, Hermione reading articles and her notes, and Draco just eating and staring. Draco would clean the kitchen while Hermione took her own shower and got dressed. Hermione would descend with her notepad and a pile of books, seating herself at the kitchen table and beckoning Draco. She would ask her first question and he would give his first response. The tone of her questions and his willingness to respond would usually set the tone for the rest of the day. It could be cooperative or a struggle. In the latter case, they would argue endlessly, yelling at each other as they did in Hogwarts. This would last until dinner, when Hermione cooked and served, then they both ate in silence because they were so mentally exhausted to even speak to each other. Then came the reading. They would sit in the reading room, reading for hours. Hermione usually fell asleep, setting her book open on her chest and dozing off. She would be awakened by Draco getting off the couch to get ready for bed. She would eventually follow him to her room. He would undress in the corner in front of the window. He would give her her own privacy by looking out the window as he took off his shirt and pants, sliding on his sweats, and then watching for a while longer. Hermione blushed slightly as she remembered his toned thighs and strong back. She couldn't help but look! They would then get in bed and fall asleep. There was no time for anything else. Hermione was usually so exhausted from her days that she immediately fell asleep.

And so here they were. Draco was awake, but not moving. It must be Saturday. He was watching her again. She heard him shift and peeked at him. He had both his arms behind his head, and stared intently at the ceiling. She could tell he was thinking of them and of Azkaban. They were so complicated. She closed her eyes again; she didn't want to get caught. Eventually, he turned back towards her, starting his analysis of her face all over again.

"Like the view?" she asked him, squinting the bright sun out of her still sleepy eyes. Hermione saw him blush, but he tried to hide it with his trademark smirk.

"Can't complain" now she wanted to blush. He always liked to compliment her. He made it so blatantly obvious. It wasn't like a grade school love when the boy would bully the girl, but secretly be infatuated with her. Draco cared for her, and he let her know. Sometimes it made Hermione uncomfortable. He was smiling at her. It wasn't a smirk or a wolfish grin, it was a genuine smile. She could only help to smile back at him.

She sighed, and shifted onto her back, "Don't you wish we could just lay in this bed forever?" she truly wished that they could. This time of the day was always the best. They were both calm. The normal stress of the day had not yet started.

She felt him shift slightly towards her, "It's funny…I was _just _thinking about that" and then moved closer, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. Draco had always been a flatterer, but he was never touchy like this. His hand brought up her cotton t-shirt up a little bit, and touched the soft skin above her belly button. She resisted falling into a fit of giggles. He squeezed her closer, and whispered into her ear, "I could be here _all _day." His warm breath tickled her ear like the first time they had slept in the same bed. She felt goosebumps rise all over her body. What was he doing? What had gotten into Draco Malfoy's brain? This was so _not_ what they had been doing these past weeks. Hermione couldn't stand it any longer! Draco's trial was in two and a half weeks. Were they doing this or where they not? They couldn't just play around before Draco went off to a lifelong sentence to Azkaban. It was now or never.

"What are we doing, Draco?" she said in a whisper. His head snapped up, confused look on his face; he had taken it the wrong way. "I mean, your trial is in two weeks. I feel like we're just dicking around here." She blushed realizing how forward she was being, but she reminded herself that it needed to happen.

"Well…whatever we're doing – I believe it's called cuddling – I like it" he answered with a smirk on his face and lowered his head back to her shoulder. She sighed, leave it Draco Malfoy to joke when you are trying to start a serious conversation. She pushed him off of her, and sat up, pulling herself back to the headboard.

"I'm serious" she looked at him with a stern expression, "I don't want to do this fifty per cent anymore, I want all or nothing!" Draco now seemed taken aback with her tone and questions, but he seemed accepting. He looked around her face and into her eyes. It seemed as though he was trying to read the answer off her face. There was only one thing she could do to answer it for him.

Hermione lowered her lips to his, cupping her small hand in the nape of his neck and pulling him towards her. He was going to have to prove himself to her. Draco responded immediately, bringing himself up to her, pushing her down to the bed slightly. He was kissing her hard; he wanted this. She slid her hand from his neck to his cheek, softening the kiss. She had gotten her answer; she was content. But Draco didn't want to stop, he wound his arm around her waist pulling her to him, deepening the kiss. She allowed him too, caressing his lower lip with her tongue. She was on fire. Draco was aggressively taking control, wanting more. She liked it; she was exhilarated. The softness of her hands turned hard as she pulled his face with one hand, and reaching to his bare back. She had to get him closer to her. She felt him grow excited. He wanted her. She felt his lips leave hers, trailing kisses along her jaw and down to her neck. She let out a soft moan of pleasure, tilting her head back to give him more room. This was happening. They were going to do this. One hundred per cent. This was so much better than nothing at all. She was feeling herself getting carried away, falling into his spell. She realised that this was how everything started with them. They would do something once, and it would just be added to their routine. She didn't want this just to be part of the routine.

"Wait" she started, and Draco recoiled as though he had touched a stove.

"I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?" he looked so concerned, upset even. She couldn't help but to laugh. He had let himself go too far.

"No, nothing," she giggled and he visibly relaxed, putting is hand on her thigh, "I just want to hear this…We are doing this, right? For the next two weeks?" His eyes instantly went dark – he forgotten about his immanent fate.

"I shouldn't. I didn't realize how close it was. I don't want to lead you on; to hurt you." He looked so sad. She leaned forward and kissed him softly like he had the night of his birthday, letting her lips linger on his.

"But I'm tough. I don't hurt so easy. And I think you need this Malfoy. You underestimate my capabilities as a wizard lawyer. I think we should do this. Whatever happens happens. Only we have to know about it." She gave him a reassuring smile and he squeezed her thigh in approval.

He leaned forward, looking into her eyes, silently thanking her, and kissed her softly but with desperation. He kissed her with a passion and fervour that she had never felt before; not with Viktor, and not even with Ron. She pulled back slowly and smiled at him.

"For both our sakes, I really hope you don't go to Azkaban" he laughed – genuine, happy, loud laugh.

"Well Granger, that rests on your shoulders now."

A/N: Yay for Romance! Let me know what your feelings are about this chapter. We got to see more from Lav and Ron this time, as well as some serious cuteness from our favourite couple.

Hope you liked it! Read and Review!


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: 

The weeks were passing quickly and blissfully for Hermione. Her routine had changed now; it now included someone else. She would wake first alongside Draco. His face calm and white-blond hair rustled from sleep. He looked like a small child – so innocent and carefree. She would kiss him gently, waking him up. He would kiss her back slowly, opening his eyes just a little bit.

"I can get used to this," he would say smirking and wrapping his arms around her kissing her more. He would get more passionate, sliding his hands south, cupping her behind then flipping her over, Hermione yelping in the process. His intentions were clear.

"Draco…" she would whine between kisses, putting up a futile defence, "We shouldn't do this…not now at least." Draco would smirk and kiss her again, seeing straight through her words.

She would then get forceful, placing her hands on his bare chest, pushing him away from her, "Draco. I can't. I need to work…unless you would rather than not do this anymore."

Draco would sigh, flopping onto his back, defeated. She would get out of bed, getting dressed and kissing still bedridden Draco before going downstairs to start working.

And that was how the rest of her day was spent – working. She would spend hours upon hours preparing her statements, questions, and working with Draco to perfect his testimony. She would review, add some notes, memorizing the new addition, then review again. She sat at the kitchen table the entire day, with Draco and the rest of Grimmauld Place moving around her. She barely had time to cook meals for her housemate, but he was being helpful in that department. He would spend time in the kitchen with her, busy himself with books or other chores around the house.

Hermione was starting to get nervous for the trial. Two weeks had already passed. This was the feeling that she would get after studying for an exam for weeks and weeks, and still feel uncertain about the material. She hated this feeling. It also frustrated her that Draco wasn't even acknowledging her stress. When she was working, he would practically ignore her. When they had still been in school, Harry and Ron would ask her if she needed help, or at least comfort her when she seemed frantic. Draco would just work around her; not acknowledging her stress and anxiety. It bothered her. She would lie in bed after a stressful day, just wanting to sleep, and he always pulled her to him. He would kiss her neck, caress her stomach.

"Come on" he would beg her, trying to pull her closer to him.

"I can't" she would whine tiredly, turning herself from him, trying to fall asleep.

"Why not" he would whine pressing himself into her back, showing her his intentions. Trying endlessly to get her to turn around. Hermione just focused on keeping her breathing slow and steady and her mind calm and clear. Even though there was a fire burning within her. Night after night, her strategy worked, and he would eventually snuggle up to her, resting his arm on her waist. His breathing would slow behind her, and Hermione would know that he was asleep.

Hermione was happy with Draco. They hadn't really done much different since that night. He endlessly complain, but Hermione consistently blocked it out. Hermione was so busy – busy working for him! All he wanted to do was snog her, and get her in bed. It was all physical with him. It was like he didn't understand the work that Hermione had to do. She understood that there was a good chance that he was going to Azkaban for the rest of his life, and that he may have wanted things with Hermione to be all physical for the rest of his freedom, but they were doing "this" whatever it was. It was a mutual agreement, a relationship.

Lying in bed, Hermione was starting to doubt the choice that she had made that night two weeks ago. Should she have kissed him? Would this jeopardise her chances in proving him innocent? What if he did go to Azkaban? How would she react? Would she be ok? Questions were flooding into her head, making it hard for her even think of sleeping. She laid back looking at the plain ceiling of her room, and felt Draco's arm readjust holding her still. She would be sad if he did go to Azkaban; she would miss this. She wasn't sure what "this" was yet, but it could lead to something else. She had never felt this way before.

ooooooooooo

Neville was bored. He absent-mindedly stared at his hands, lying flat on his desk in front of him. The profession of being an auror was definitely not what he had thought it would be. He had started from the bottom, unlike Harry who had started at the top. Even though he had completed the basic auror training, he was now stuck at a desk all day doing research. He rarely went out in the field. He wasn't even an assistant to an investigative auror. However, that didn't mean that he didn't participate in the auror department rumor mill. The newest piece of gossip was about Lucius Malfoy. Everyone knew that he had been murdered in his cell at Azkaban, but there was a lot of speculation as how he died and what was in the cell. Some were saying that there was a direct threat to Draco. Others said that it was so gruesome that both Harry and Kingsley had to excuse themselves. Someone had even said they had seen Kingsley vomit! Neville was curious, but wasn't able to set anything up with Harry to hear the actual details. How else could he get the information?

Hermione Granger. He was sure she had heard about the murder considering she had been babysitting Draco Malfoy for the past weeks. She would surely know something. If not there was always Malfoy. He checked his watch – 4:52. He would be able to leave soon. It wasn't like he had any other work to do. Sitting and staring at his hands had been the most stimulating thing he had done all day. He let the time pass and packed his things, stepping into the floo towards Grimmauld Place.

Still standing in the fireplace, he saw Hermione working diligently at the kitchen table, and Draco lost in his thoughts arbitrarily wiping the counter. He was out of his room. They were co-inhabiting. Weird. He stepped out and the atmosphere in the room immediately changed. Hermione jumped violently noticing that he was in the room, and Draco simply turned around to face him, indifferent. This was typical Draco Malfoy – face void of any emotion. His father had taught him well. But his father was dead now.

"Neville!" Hermione started, pushing out of her chair, "I didn't see you come in. How are you?" Neville knew that by asking him how he was, she was really trying to figure out what he was doing there. He had interrupted something. Neville glanced over at Malfoy who hadn't changed at all. He was just staring at he and Hermione.

"I'm good. Had a slow day at work and thought I would come pay you and Malfoy a visit! It has been a month since I've seen you, you know 'Mione" Neville watched as Hermione blushed at his comment. She was still the same – she didn't know how beautiful and attractive she was to other guys. She was still stuck in Hogwarts – thinking that she still looked like what boys like _Malfoy_ had described her as. His gaze shifted to Malfoy who was eying her from the counter, which he was currently wiping clean. Neville wanted to talk to Hermione alone, ask about how Malfoy had been, maybe get her to smile, but Malfoy's presence was biting at him. What was his deal? He almost seemed protective of Hermione.

"It has? Wow, time has really flown, I feel like I've been here for like two days!" she said starting to laugh in Malfoy's direction. Neville was in shock…did she _like_ him! This was _Malfoy _the boy who made her like miserable for 7 years!

"Really Hermione?! It kind of sounds like you do nothing all day…just stuck here with Malfoy…" Neville trailed off as he turned his gaze to Malfoy. The blonde had finally moved toward him and was looking slightly angrier.

"Oh Neville," she giggled, "Draco really isn't that bad! He helps me around the house and keeps me company. Harry and Ginny have even taken to him a bit!" she flashed a toothy smile at Draco who tightened his lips. Neville was in disbelief! Why would she be so friendly towards him?! They had such a terrible history!

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. Something was going on. Something romantic. The feeling of nausea seeped through him slowly. How could she do this?! Malfoy must be doing something to her! Did Harry and Ron know? Neville couldn't let this happen. He had to do something. Fight fire with fire.

He slid closer to Hermione, brushing her arm. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you a bit, Hermione? It really wouldn't be much trouble at all" he drawled, sending a mischievous smile Draco's way. He wanted him to know his intentions.

"Oh Nevile, how sweet of you," she murmured back to him, "but Malfoy and I are fine here. Really." She lifted her gaze towards Malfoy who seemed to be trying to burn a whole in the counter with his eyes. Neville smirked; his plan was working.

"What about you Malfoy? You wouldn't mind a little male company would you?" he said as he wrapped his arm around Hermione. Draco finally looked up at him, glaring daggers.

"I don't know Longbottom, three's a crowd…" Malfoy answered in the tone of their earlier Hogwarts days. Malfoy was now on the defensive, exactly where Neville wanted him. He squeezed Hermione and felt her recoil away from him. He was now making her uncomfortable. Normally, he would want Hermione to feel safe and happy with him, but it wasn't about Hermione right now. It was about _Malfoy_.

"Well 'Mione, this has been fun, but I have to get back to work and stuff. It was good seeing you! And you too of course Malfoy." Neville said with a smirk. Malfoy had inched slightly closer to Hermione as their conversation had continued. But Neville still had a few tricks up his sleeve. "'Mione maybe I can call you sometime? We should see each other more often." He then snaked his arms around her kissing her check, maybe even the side of her lips.

Malfoy looked as though he would fall over. Neville felt pride surge through him. He had never seen Malfoy so affected and overcome with emotion. His face was red, fists clenchd, and he was now standing close to Hermione as though protecting her. But Neville was not done. He finally approached the fire and grabbed a huge handful of floo powder. He stepped into the fireplace and just as he was about to throw the powder down, he glanced at Malfoy one last time watching his every move through narrow eyes. "Oh and Malfoy," Neville started as he threw down the powder and green flames erupted around him, "so sorry about your father."

ooooooooooo

"Oh and Malfoy" Longbottom said as green flames licked his body, "so sorry about your father." The tall, lanky boy disappeared into the flames, but Malfoy saw him smirk…he wasn't sorry. He took a deep breath. He couldn't lose it in front of Hermione; she actually liked this guy. But didn't she like him? Why wasn't she standing up for for him? What hadn't she pushed Longbottom away when he had touched her, kissed her? She was just standing there flushed, gaping at the fireplace as if she had seen a troll. Neville's low blow was bringing back bad memories and Malfoy decided he couldn't handle it anymore. He stalked up to his room laying down on his bed staring at the same cracked ceiling.

Maybe he was getting too close to Hermione. The way he had felt when Longbottom had laid his hands on her, his mouth on her cheek…he was livid. His father had always warned him of this…of love. He had told him that was why all Malfoy men had been wed in arranged marriages – the love would never distract their aspirations and achievements. Malfoys focused; Malfoys succeeded. Malfoy pushed his silver blond hair out of his face. There was only one thing left to do, and he would do it the only way he knew how. Counting the cracks in the ceiling one last time he shoved off the bed and headed downstairs.

oooooooooo

Harry sat back in his chair, watching Hermione walk out of his office. That was the second time that week that she had just burst into his office, hysterical about Draco's trial preparations. She was beginning to doubt herself, something she usually did if she was extremely stressed. He'd reminded her not to doubt herself and to think of all the other times she had doubted herself. Her Arithmancy essays, Potions, her NEWTs. Everything had turned out all right in the end. She had done just fine. She was just overreacting. He watched as she visibly relaxed, exhaling out and sitting down in front of him. She spent the next half an hour reviewing her plans for Draco's trial. Harry was slightly amazed. She had rehearsed her questions with Draco, anticipating every little detail or mishap. She was completely ready; it was only up to Winzegamot now.

"Hermione. There is literally nothing else that you can do. Your case is completely made up!" Harry told her desperately. She scrunched up her nose in thought, shuffling once more through her notes.

"Do you think so Harry? Are you sure there is anything else I could do?" she replied anxiously. This girl really didn't know when to quit! He quickly ran a hand through his jet-black hair, unsure of what to tell his best friend next.

"Ms. Granger, there is absolutely nothing else that you can work on. I see no weaknesses in your argument, and you will just have to wait a few more days to prove them in front of the Winzegamot." Hermione turned quickly in her chair and gaped as Kingsley, the Minster of Magic himself, stood at Harry's door, "Now Ms. Granger, Harry and I have some business to attend to and you have gone well beyond the task you were assigned. I will see you in a few days time." Speechless, Hermione walked out of his office and disappeared out of sight. "That woman will never change," said Kingsley settling down in the chair that Hermione had just vacated.

"Tell me about it! I've had to talk her down since first year!" Harry answered chuckling. If there was anyone who knew how to deal with Hermione, it was Harry, and maybe Ron. But Ron had screwed things over; he would be lucky if Hermione would ever speak and confide in him the same way ever again. Leave it to Ron to ruin a friendship.

"Harry, I can see that you're deep in thought, but I did not come here just to playfully scold Ms. Granger" Kingsley said pulling Harry out of his thoughts, "We do have to discuss a few things. Now in regards to the Auror raid last Friday…"

Harry focused on Kingsley's face. He was not an especially beautiful specimen. His dark skin was aged and scarred from previous battles. His eyes were slightly too far apart, and his nose was rather bulbous. But the Minister of Magic had a certain aire to him. He was regal and powerful, and when he spoke others listened. Harry recalled the first words he had heard Kingsley Shaklebolt utter his fifth year as Dumbledore disappeared in flames. His deep voice had resonated then, just as it was now. Harry wasn't truly listening to what Kingsley was saying, rather listening to how he was saying it. His voice was so deep and different. Kingsley was kind of like Dumbledore in a way. He was regal and commanded attention, not only attention, but respect. Both men had been extremely respected by the Wizarding Community. Dumbledore as the best Headmaster of Hogwarts School, and Kingsley the Minister of Magic helping Wizarding England out of the War. Although the two men looked completely different, Harry could see their similarities, and why he looked up to both of them so much. After the war had ended, Kingsley had been a mentor for him. Helping him through the new job at the Ministry as well as assisting him with his work for the Order.

"Harry are you even listening?!" Harry was jolted out of his thoughts as the Minister of Magic sent him an inquisitive look.

"Oh yes, yes. Sorry. You were saying, Minister."

"Well, I was saying that after what happened to Malfoy Senior, I don't think that we should take any risks with Junior's trial. Security for him, Hermione, and the entire Winzegamot needs to be top notch for the entire day. I trust that you will be taking care of that." He finished, leaning back against his seat.

"Of course. Security. Consider it done. Any thing else before I get started?" He asked, expecting Kinglsey to shake his head and walk out without another word like he usually did.

"Yes, actually," inside Harry was stunned, but pulled out a notepad and noted the things he had to do for the trial before Kingsley pressed on, "it's regarding the murder of Lucius at Azkaban. I was wondering if your people had found anything else out of the ordinary?" Harry creased his eyebrows. His people hadn't found anything. It had taken them a while to decode the message left for them. Draco was next. Harry had known that from the second he stepped into the gory cell. Someone was after the Malfoys and he had no idea why. Other than the intended message, no other shreds of evidence had been found. The cell had no splice of DNA belonging to anyone else than Lucius Malfoy. They had even brought in Muggle investigators to confirm it. How was he supposed to solve this without anything else? Something had to give!

"No, nothing sir. How about on your end? Anything new?"

"Nothing other than the fact that Draco will be next. I think that he should be warned of the intentions of the killer after his trial. If he goes to Azkaban, we should inform him before his admittance, and put guards on him at all times. If Ms. Granger succeeds, he will have to decide where to stay, and we will put guards there. Perhaps Mr. Malfoy can help us understand why anyone would want to target his family – at least for a more specific reason."

Harry creased his eyebrows again. Kingsley was right – as usual – Draco could definitely narrow down reasons as to why his father and his family was being targeted. He could even know who did it. But like Kingsley said, approaching Draco before his trial could throw him off, make him suspicious. It would have to wait until after.

"I will leave you to your thoughts Mr. Potter," Kingsley said, getting out of his chair and turning towards the door, "Just be aware Mr. Potter, both Hermione and Draco have a lot riding on this trial. Make sure it does not go awry."

"Yes, Kingsley" Harry responded as the door to his office closed softly. Harry was left to his thoughts – thoughts about Malfoy and Hermione's safety. He knew Hermione cared for him, even though she wouldn't admit it he knew that they had developed some kind of bond. He had seen her reaction to Lucius' death and how it had affected Draco. He wasn't sure if the feeling was mutual, but something was there. He couldn't help but fear how crushed Hermione would be if she were to fail and Malfoy were to go to Azkaban. He couldn't bear to imagine her reaction if he were killed like his father. He would have to do everything in his power to make he would be safe – Malfoy couldn't go to Azkaban.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! What did you think about Neville's attempt at Hermione? How about Draco's reaction? What do you all think will happen next, especially as the trial approaches?


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17:

Three days. That was all she had. Three days. Hermione could not stop thinking about it. The trial. It was coming. In three days. Her brain whirled through details and questions and statements. She had reviewed countless times. Draco had walked out on her countless times because of her constant nagging and questioning. He had banished her to the study as he didn't want her "polluting" the kitchen. He had urged her multiple times to stop and come to bed. To be with him. But she couldn't. She couldn't stop now! What if she failed? She couldn't even begin to think of the concept of being without him in this house.

She chastised herself for thinking such negative thoughts and deliberated over her notes once more. She looked at her watch – it was getting late. Although, she usually worked until much later into the night. Draco would probably already be in bed. She tidied her desk in the study and crossed the hallway. She had really gotten to know Grimmauld place since Draco had forced her to work in the study. The amount f the rooms in the house were incredible. She could tell Draco had done some exploring, possibly even before her arrival. She heard the shower running in the bathroom across from her room. Part of Draco's ritual. The shower before bed. She was usually still studying in her study at this time, usually crawling in beside him after he had fallen asleep. Maybe Draco would be lucky tonight. They could talk…or do other things.

Feeling spontaneous, she turned the handle and opened the door feeling the heat and steam on her skin. Attempting to close the door silently behind her, she heard Draco humming to himself. He was happy. She smiled to herself – he didn't know she was in the bathroom with him. She felt so mischievous. This would have not been something old, Hogwarts Hermione would have done. But she had felt awfully mischievous sneaking around the castle with Viktor Krum her fourth year. The turning off of the shower snapped her out of her head and back into the bathroom. Not knowing what to do she scrambled around the bathroom, making more noise than she would have liked.

"Granger?" Draco asked through the shower curtain.

"Yeah" she whispered. She could see his wolfish grin through the shower curtain. She reddened – this could be worse than when she had walked in on him the second day of their stay together!

"What are you doing in here?" he asked her peeking his head around the shower curtain, tone dripping in sarcasm. Of course, he was smirking.

Hermione couldn't believe herself! She was behaving like a 3rd year, wringing her hands in a bathroom with a very naked and very attractive Draco Malfoy. He had asked her why he was here – she had to answer! "I don't know…I just heard you in the shower…and I thought I'd say hi…" she muttered - cursing at herself for sounding so much like a love-struck third year.

"Just saying hi?" Draco responded turning back on the shower. Hermione had not at all expected what Draco did next. He stuck his hand out of the shower and grabbed her pulling her in, hot water splashing all over her. She was standing in front of Draco Malfoy. In the shower. Naked. His chest was dripping with water, hair wet and falling in his face. The water was falling on her too. Her clothes became heavier and her hair was wet and dripping now. Draco was looking into her eyes passionately. She had never seen this fire from him before. She tried to keep her eyes on him, but they wanted to hungrily take in his body. He kissed her lips and everything was lost. They were melded into each other. Hermione couldn't even feel the water falling on her anymore. All she could feel was Draco, his lips, his hands. Before she knew it her shirt was gone and her bare stomach pressed against him. Then it was cold tile against her back. He had her pinned. His mouth ravaged her neck, sucking and biting. This was more intense than anything they had ever done before. Hermione could barely think – but one last rational thought passed through her before she let go – three days, two nights.

"Draco, wait" she managed to get out. She felt him retract his lips from her neck.

"Hmm?" he asked. Hermione turned off the shower a draft of cold suddenly hitting her body. She could feel everything now - the absence of her shirt, the wetness of her clothes and hair, the fact that Draco wasn't wearing anything, and maybe perhaps that they had been snogging a little too much.

"Not in the shower" she answered, pulling his face up to hers and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. She stepped out of the shower pulling him with her. She suddenly realized that neither of them were ashamed. It was going to happen. He wrapped a towel around himself and put one around Hermione's shoulders, leaning down to kiss her softly before he turned and walked towards her room. She followed him, but now the tiny voice in her head was screaming – three days, two nights.

"Draco?" she blurted out into the silence. He watched her, sitting on her bed in his towel. "You know that tomorrow night is your last night before…you know…the trial, right?"

His face darkened, " I hadn't really thought about it until now, no"

"Oh" was the only way Hermione could respond. She walked towards him again, sitting next to him on their bed. "Well, if I were to do something for you on your last night, what would it be?" Hermione had tried to sound as sexy as she could, trying to indicate that she wanted to be with him then. Draco simply stood from the bed, walking to the other end of the room and slipped on a pair of boxers.

He answered without even turning around to look at her, "I would want to have it be like any other night with you. I don't want to know it's my last one as a free man, Granger." He slid on a shirt and turned towards her for the first time, "I have the sudden urge to go read," and he stalked out of the room.

Hermione suddenly felt terrible. She had started something that both of them, especially him, had wanted so much only to ruin it by reminding him that their moments together were limited. She was not daft. She could tell he was upset with her. Taking off the remainder of her wet clothes, she dried herself methodically, thinking about reasons for and against going to speak to him. Eventually, she decided against it. An argument would ensure. Neither of them would want such a thing on his second to last night in Grimmauld Place. She settled into her bed, picking up a book.

Her thoughts would not quiet and her body was tense. She could not bear to go to bed with him upset with her. Two days. One night. This was it. Hermione had to resolve this. She placed her book on the nightstand where she had found it and wrapped a robe around herself, softly padding to the library. She found her seated in a chair without a book, but rather nursing a glass of Firewhisky. Perfect.

oooooooooo

Hermione came to find him fifteen minutes after he had left her. His calculations had been off; she was early. He took a sip of the bronze liquid and it warmed his body. He had not had enough to be drunk, but the warmth was beginning to spread past his throat.

"Come to join me?" he asked quietly, no need to be aggressive just yet.

"Draco, what I said…it came out wrong. I'm sorry. I want to spend this time with you, not arguing." She sat next to him, filling her own glass and beginning to sip. This entire situation seemed so clean, so unlike their past relationship. She was apologizing. If this had been any other night, he would have accepted it, kissed her gently, and moved on. But this wasn't any other night.

"Oh but we're so good at arguing" Draco smirked at her. She grinned tightly, confused about the intention of that statement. Draco finished his glass and set it down on the table. The warmth had thankfully spread to his head. It was funny how alcohol always had a part in their relationship. He remembered when he had picked her up and carried her back to her bed when they had drank too much after the whole Weasley debacle. Or when she had climbed into his bed with her short dress and straight her tickling his chin. And now alcohol was a part of this. He was going to make her upset, just like he had for the past seven years of their life. She would be upset. But it would spare her the hurt that she would face in two days. He knew she wouldn't handle either well, but at least with this she would be forced to go to Weasley or Potter or someone. He was doing her a favor, and the alcohol would dull the pain. He watched as Hermione mimicked his actions and finished her glass as well. She crossed the spaced between them, straddling him and kissing him deeply.

"We could argue some place else if you'd like" she asked, eyes hooded. She kissed him again, passionately. Draco's heart broke as he pulled away, putting on the face of fifth year Draco, speaking to another one of his conquests.

"Can I tell you something, Granger?" he asked, softly cupping her bottom. He watched her nod in approval, "Ever since you punched me third year, I've wanted to shag you until you couldn't walk straight." He smirked at her and watched as her eyes darkened slightly. He would have to work harder, "To be honest, I've been thinking about it since you were crying drunk on the floor when Weasley broke up with you."

Her mouth fell open. That had done it. She backed off of him like she had touched a hot stove. "What is bringing all this out Draco, are you drunk?" he could tell how confused and hurt she was.

"Not really. I've just been trying to fuck you for the past two weeks and all you want to do is study and snog," he could see the tears and anger welling in her eyes. He stood and moved right in front of her, "Now, where were we?" he snaked his arm around her waist, attempting to pull her towards him. He was met with her strong arms pushing him away.

"I can't believe this! I spend a month working for you! I want to get you off! I don't want you to go to Azkaban, Draco!" tears were starting to fall from her eyes, "I just want to be with" she said in a small voice.

"Well, we both know that you won't!" he near shouted, "I'll be Azkaban for the rest of my life and we both know it! If anything you've just been giving me false hope! I can't stand the sight of you! Get out _mudblood_" his tone was dripping with malice, and tears were now falling freely down her cheeks. Her mouth was wide open as though she had just witnessed a murder. On the outside he resembled Draco Malfoy at his egotistical prime, but his insides were burning. He wanted to vomit. His heart was being shredded watching her cry at what _he _had just said to her.

"I can't…believe…this," she mumbled to herself. She wiped the tears from her eyes, and turned walking towards the door, "Goodbye Draco," and with that, she walked out of the library, closing the door softly behind her. Draco heard her release a heart-wrenching sob and dissaperate.

He collapsed backwards into the chair behind him, his head immediately falling into his hands. Silence. All he could hear was his own heavy breathing. His father had taught him so well. He was the best actor there ever was. But what he had just done right? Did he really save her the hurt? All he wanted to do was hold her, to tell her he was sorry, that it was all his fault. That he loved her. But there was no going back now. He filled himself a generous glass of Firewhisky. Potter would be here soon enough. He planned to be thoroughly intoxicated by then. Hopefully, Potter wouldn't cause him too much physical harm. Or better yet, maybe he wouldn't feel it.

oooooooooo

Ginny gazed at herself in the mirror. She really hadn't changed much in the years that it had been since Hogwarts. Sure, her hair had grown longer, and her battle-wounds had healed, but she was the same old red-haired Weasley. Wrapping her emerald robe tightly around herself she went to the kitchen, where Harry was still hard at work. The days had been growing longer for him as Draco Malfoy's trial. Kinglsey had been over numerous times, and Hermione owled at least three times a day. Everyone was on edge.

Ginny couldn't imagine what was going through Malfoy's head. Everyone expected him to be sentenced to life in Azkaban. The only people who had stuck their necks out for him were Harry and Hermione. Hermione. She would be heartbroken if Malfoy actually did end up in Azkaban. Ginny knew how hard she had work on his case. She also knew that there was something going on between them. Hermione had told her about past occasions, but then the talking about Draco ceased all together. Hermione was her best friend. She knew what that meant. Since she didn't detest Malfoy, it must be the other option – they were shagging.

The redhead stared into her hot cocoa. If Hermione and Draco were actually together, then Hermione's reaction to Malfoy's sentence would be much more dramatic. The mess left to clean would be much larger. She saw Harry tense across the kitchen, hand automatically feeling for his wand pocket. The floo was rumbling. Out fell a disheveled, tear-streaked Hermione. She landed in the middle of their small kitchen, sobbing loudly.

"Hermione! What's happened?" Harry sprung to the floor, taking her face in his hands, searching her for answer. Ginny came next to them – sometimes Harry could get caught in the situation. She lifted them both from the ground and brought them to the table. Ginny brought Hermione a cup of hot cocoa as she dried her tears.

"Hermione, dear" she started slowly, "tell us what happened."

"I can't believe I was so…._stupid_" she said before falling into a fit of sobs. "He was just using me this whole time! I slave away for him these past two months, cooking, and cleaning, and washing, and putting his trial together, and _this _is how he thanks me!" Hermione was inconsolable.

Ginny exhaled. She needed to remain calm for her best friend, fiery anger wouldn't help anyone. Harry on the other hand looked like was about to burst.

"Malfoy" he seethed, "Hermione, what did he do to you? Did he hurt you?" Hermione reddened, and Ginny's suspicions were confirmed. They had a romantic relationship.

"Well," she started – Ginny could tell she was calculating how to approach tell Harry this, "it's a very long story, but for the past two weeks, Draco and I had been romantically involved" she paused to gauge Harry's reaction. Ginny noticed a flicker in his eyes and a slight tense of his hand, but he could tell he had taken a lesson from Malfoy; he let nothing show. "So I had wanted to make his last few nights special, but I said something wrong, and we got into an argument," she wiped a few stray tears from her eyes, "he told me that he had only been involved with me because he wanted a shag before Azkaban. He then told me the work I was doing was not going to work, and by not sleeping with him, I've been giving him false hope" she sniffed once more, and then in the smallest voice she uttered, "then he called me a mudblood."

"That _bastard_!" Harry was livid. He paced around the kitchen trying to control himself. Ginny wrapped an arm around Hermione trying to console her. Malfoy had hit her when she was wounded. But Ginny knew better. She had seen the way Malfoy looked at Hermione now. If they had really been involved, the coward that Malfoy was probably started the argument because he was afraid of hurting Hermione later on. For once, Malfoy had actually done something noble – but of course Hermione and Harry didn't see it that way.

oooooooooo

Harry was pacing through his kitchen trying to control himself in front of Hermione and Ginny. He wanted to hit something over and over, to hex something to oblivion. He just wanted to let go – but he couldn't. Not here at least. He wanted to speak to Malfoy. He knew that if he injured Malfoy seriously and if Ginny and Hermione found out about it, he would be toast. He still needed to see Malfoy, to hear what he had to say. When Hermione had told him about the relationship with Draco, it had made sense to him. Draco looked at her differently and seemed oddly protective. Hermione on the other hand was no longer complaining about Draco as she once did. There was clearly more to this argument than met the eye, and Draco Malfoy was the kind of manipulation.

"I need to see Malfoy" he declared in a terse tone. Hermione looked up at him eyes worried, and Ginny just eyed him. He knew Ginny too well, she was warning him. "Don't worry 'Mione, I won't go too hard on him. I just want to hear what he has to say."

Hermione nodded, still wiping away tears. Ginny gazed into his eyes one more time – warning him again – this time not about keeping his temper, but watching out for Malfoy's.

Harry nodded to her and picked a handful of floo poweder, "Malfoy Manor" he articulated. And he was gone.

He appeared in the Malfoy study, stepping out of the fireplace and into the somber room, "Took you long enough" Malfoy slurred. He was sitting – more like slouching – in the big armchair at the head of the room. Draco's platinum blonde hair looked like Harry's usually did – meaning he had been running a nervous hand through it for some time.

"Before I hit you and send your ass to Azkaban, I want to hear what you have to say." Draco didn't even react to Harry's words; he just stared into his glass of Firewhisky.

"I did it for her you know," Malfoy started, "These past weeks have been some of the best in my life. But tomorrow…probably tonight actually…I will start my life sentence in Azkaban. I had to save her from that pain. I also have to save myself. I don't think I could physically deal with seeing her through bars, seeing her sad eyes looking on me as I get frailer and frailer. It had to be a clean break, she has to hate me." He finished, refilling his glass and getting one for Harry.

Harry sat in the armchair across from Draco and filled his glass with Firewhisky – though his portion had not been as generous as Draco's. "She can do this you know…She can win this trial for you. You of all people know how hard she's working, surely you can see how much she cares about you"

"That's exactly it!" Malfoy yelled, interrupting Harry, "I see how much she cares about me! I see how much work is going into a fruitless trial! I am like my father, I am going to Azkaban, I will eventually be murdered! She needs to stopping hurting before all of that happens. You weren't there to pick her off the floor after Weasley knocked her down Potter; you didn't see her. I can't have her feel like that about me."

Harry took a hard look at Draco. Hermione had worked her magic again. Draco was seated across from him, distraught. He had purposefully gotten in an argument to push Hermione away – a tactic Harry remembered he had attempted to use on Ginny during the war. It was so painfully obvious how similar their situations were. They thought that they were both marching to their death, not wanting to hurt those who cared about them. Draco Malfoy of all people had fallen in love with Hermione. He was doing anything in his power to make sure that she was safe. Her caring and compassion that Harry so loved about her, had filled Draco too. Harry knew what he had to do now. His mission was very clear, and one that Hermione would cherish forever. He was going to save Draco Malfoy.

oooooooooo

"TRIAL OF THE CENTURY STARTS TOMORROW" Ron read in the _Daily Prophet_ as Lavender slept quietly next to him. His heart filled with anticipation and malice. The person who had tormented him and his friends, who had stolen his girlfriend, who loathed everything about him was going to Azkaban tomorrow. Ron knew it wouldn't be long before he would be murdered, or worse given the kiss. The person who had made his whole life so miserable would soon be out of the way.

Leaving Hermione. With Draco gone she was surely going to be inconsolable. According to what Harry had told him, the two were good friends. Such good friends that Hermione had taken it upon herself to defend Draco at his trial. She would be devastated when all her hard work went to nothing. It would be the perfect opportunity for him. He wouldn't need to get rid of Lavender just yet, but he could move in on Hermione.

He would comfort her, and listen to her talk about how silly she was…what their past relationship had been like. Then one day, when she was so overcome with raw emotion, he would kiss her, and she would realize what she had so sorely miss and they would make love right there. Ron still had the ring. He would propose to her soon after, and everything would be back on schedule. The only thing standing in his way to a future with Hermione Granger was Draco Malfoy's verdict. He had to make sure that he would be sent to Azkaban – or else the plan would never begin. Ron would always be stuck on the outside, never fully being able to get back with Hermione. He had to do this – it was his fate.

He leaned his head back against the wall behind the bed he shared with Lavender. There was in fact one person he knew on the Winzegamot. One person who could have the power to swing the vote. One person who life was tormented by the Malfoys. He rushed out of bed, and grabbed a quill and paper. Positive that this was the only choice, his quill touched the page,

_"Dear Neville,"_


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

A/N: My lovely readers, Happy Holidays! I wanted to thank each and everyone one of you for sticking with me the past months and not giving up on me. It has been an extremely challenging semester at school and in life in general. I will try to write and update as much as possible. Enough excuses…Without further ado – Chapter 18! I do love a good review by the way!

Today was the day. The trial. Harry awoke in Sirius' room of Grimmauld Place, looking in the mirror. He looked tired. Ever since Draco had told Harry about his feelings for Hermione two days ago, he had been staying with him at Grimmauld. It was not as though the two had become friends, but they had a consensus – they understood each other. Harry understood the love that Draco had for Hermione, and the pain and agony he felt as he walked towards his imminent imprisonment and death. It wasn't just about him anymore, it was about those around him. He could care. Harry wasn't sure what came to more of shock to Draco – the fact he had feelings for Hermione Granger, or the fact that he had feelings for someone other than himself.

Harry smirked, thinking about the internal confusion his blonde-haired housemate must be facing. Arriving at his door, he lightly knocked on Draco's door, opening the door a crack. Draco was seated fast asleep on his windowsill. Harry felt a pang of guilt. He had to wake him, had to take him to the trial. He felt an odd sense of loyalty to Draco, for what he had done, and what he was about to do. Harry knew that both Hermione and Ginny would bombard him with questions. Why had he stayed the extra nights? What had Malfoy said? Had he hurt him? Had they fought? Harry felt as though he owed some kind of "guy code" to Draco. They had come to an understanding, one that not many others would be alright with. When they asked, he wouldn't tell, only when Draco was ready.

Tapping Draco's shoulder, the blonde awakened to look up at Harry.

"I guess this is it" he said solemnly. Harry nodded and walked out of the room to prepare breakfast. The rest of the morning passed quickly for Harry. They prepared one last time, then Harry put the necessary charms on Draco, leading him gently to the fireplace.

"Ministry of Magic" Harry spoke loudly and clearly, and stepped into the green flames.

They stepped out into pure chaos. Everyone was running around them. There were people running to the courtroom trying to find a seat. There were journalists and their entourages running in each every direction. The robes of the Winzegamot billowed around them as there was a mass entrance into _Courtroom Number 3. _

"We wait here," Harry whispered to Draco, "until everyone is inside. Then I guess I bring you in." They just stood for what seemed hours, as everyone ran around them, not even noticing them.

"Where is Mr. Longbottom?! Has _anyone_ seen Neville Longbottom?!" One woman in rust colored robes shouted from one corner of the large courtroom foyer. Everyone in the room immediately turned around looking at those nearest them, to see if in fact, it was Neville Longbottom.

Harry just watched the chaos happening around him, hand firmly grasping Malfoy's shirt. His attention shifted when he saw a head of straw-like platinum blonde hair. Harry's heart rose in his throat as he thought it could have been none other than Lucius Malfoy himself. The fidgeting man immediately turned, eyes landing on the two of them, a nervous look in his eye.

"Ah! Xenophilius, we've been looking everywhere for you!" the woman in rust colored robes muttered to him, pulling him into the corner with her. Lovegood's eyes were trained on Harry and Draco, as though nothing else was in the room. Harry felt Draco shiver slightly underneath his grasp – he had felt it too. The two were so immersed in the previous events that they hadn't even realized the room had cleared out.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted behind the pair. Harry immediately doubled around to see the smaller Hermione, eyes a little redder than usual, with dark circles underneath. Her breath visibly hitched as she realized that Malfoy too was there, now looking at her. Harry watched her brow furrow in concentration, she was avoiding looking at him, at Draco.

"Well! What do you think you're doing?! You have to bring him in now…they're waiting!" Harry snapped back into reality, pulling Draco along with him. This was really it.

oooooooooooo

All he saw was her. Even through all the chaos and everyone running in each and every direction, tripping over their robes, over their shoes, Draco only saw Hermione. She stood in the back of the room, fiddling with her hair nervously and chewing her lip. A sense of calm came over him. Even in all of this chaos and screaming and running, all he saw was her. What if he hadn't said all of those hurtful things to purposefully upset her? Would she still stand next to him? Would she still have worked as hard as his prosecutor? All Draco Malfoy could do was question.

What if Hermione was the only one able enough to get him off an Azkaban sentence? What if she was his only way out? All the negativity and anxiety came flooding back in. The room started to move again, and Draco lost sight of Hermione. This was it. He had pushed her away, she wasn't going to help him. He was going to Azkaban, where he would face daily pain and sadness, and eventually where he would be murdered. It was his fate. But he deserved it right? Again with the questions, Draco chided himself.

"Harry!" he heard her shout, and suddenly he was facing her. She wouldn't look at him, he knew that much. But oh, could he look at her. He eyes were bloodshot and red, the soft skin underneath them dark and purple. She hadn't been sleeping well, probably crying too. He had done that.

Draco stood transfixed as Harry and Hermione exchanged words. Draco could tell that Harry was assessing the situation as well. He spoke slowly and kept his eyes moving around her face. The next thing he knew Draco was walking towards the courtroom. Yet, his eyes couldn't move. He couldn't bare to lose sight of her now. She was all he had. The only one. For just one second, her eyes bore into his. He saw her anger, her frustration, her anxiety, and her sadness. This was really it. He passed the threshold, and was handed off to Ernie Macmillan – a Ravenclaw he barely remembered from Hogwarts. Harry had told him that in light of Hermione stepping down as his lawyer, Ernie had been appointed to him. Harry had also added in phrases like "not to worry", "all of Hermione's documents", and "I've spoken with him myself" to attempt to make Draco feel better. But Draco wasn't feeling right now. Everything was numb.

oooooooooooo

Ernie Macmillan stood sweating in front of what seemed to be thousands of people.

"Citizens of Wizarding London, and fair Justices of the Winzegamot. Today we sit and listen to the momentous trial of known Death Eater and follower of Voldemort, Draco Malfoy." There was a hushed whisper around the room, but Ernie pressed on, "I will argue diligently, that Mr. Malfoy does not in fact share the same views as Lord Voldemort and his followers, but actually resents them. He was only forced to follow them for fear of the death of he and his family. In light of recent events, namely the murder of Mr. Malfoy's father Lucius, I argue the punishment of life in Azkaban as unfit and inhumane, leading to Mr. Malfoy's most swift murder."

The room was in uproar. Some were stunned, mouths wide in shock. Others were understanding, brows furrowed in thought. Reactions in the room came from those who thought he was completely wrong. Citizens stood pointing and screaming at Malfoy as though he was Voldemort himself. Ernie swallowed - Harry had prepared him for this. He remembered Hermione's notes and moved on.

"I will begin with the questioning of Draco Malfoy himself. Mr. Malfoy, was it ever your intent to become a Death Eater your sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" the crowd was silent, waiting on Draco's answer.

"I never had the intent of becoming of Death Eater." Draco started with some reaction from the crowd, "One day I was called in to speak with my father, but instead was greeted by Voldemort himself. I remember being frozen with fear, unsure if this was the scene of my death or of my family. Lord Voldemort threatened me that night. He threatened that if I did not take the Dark Mark, and plotted to kill Albus Dumbledore, that my family and all of those I cared for would suffer as I watched. That night, he branded me with evil, and I took it like the unemotional man my father wanted me to be. But when I returned to my room the vomit and bile seeping in my intestines came out. I don't think I have ever truly slept soundly since that day."

Ernie was mesmerized. Harry had been right. Hermione Granger had prepared everything and coached Malfoy to the tee. He would be the star witness, his only job was to ask the right questions. Surely enough the trial proceeded well. Ernie used the emotion of the crowd and of the Justices to tailor which question he posed next. Draco went through his family history, his sixth and seventh year at Hogwarts, his capture and eventual house arrest at Grimmauld Place. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, hanging off of his every word. Ernie couldn't believe it. Hermione Granger might have actually done the impossible. Draco Malfoy could walk free.

oooooooooooo

"_Dear Neville,_

_Malfoy must go to Azkaban. He's gotten too close to Hermione. I'm worried. You're the only person I know who would share my views, and would actually be able to do something about it, with you being on the Winzegamot and all. _

_Ron"_

Ron's letter kept replaying in Neville's mind as Malfoy spoke before the courtroom. He listened to Malfoy's words, about his past and his father's harsh punishments, and how _scared_ he was of the Dark Lord. Rubbish. Neville could see it now – how bad Draco wanted to be free. He would literally say anything. He knew that Ron had been slightly misguided in thinking that Draco being in Azkaban would bring him back Hermione, but Draco did belong in Azkaban.

Neville did the only sensible thing he could think of at that moment. A trick taught to him by one of his best, and most intelligent friends, Hermione Granger. He began to list the pros and cons of Draco Malfoy going to Azkaban prison for a life sentence. Cons. His eyes wandered to Hermione sitting in the back of the room, face etched in sadness and worry as Draco spoke. She knew this trial; she had come up with it all. She would be a mess if she failed and her dear Draco ended up in Azkaban. There was also Harry, who had some kind of strange attachment to the blonde. He had seen them muttering to each other as he had stormed in late to the trial. Then there was Ron. The disgusting satisfaction Ronald Weasley would get from seeing his life-long nemesis imprisoned would be nauseating. He knew that he would try to get Hermione back, which wouldn't eventually work. Neville loved his friends, but wondered just how much Malfoy affected all of them.

That led him to Pros. Malfoy had a strange hold over those that he cared about most. Azkaban would take that away. Of course, he would have to deal with a broken Hermione and a brooding Harry, all while listening to a confused and overzealous Ron, but Malfoy would be gone. They would move on, and everything would go back to normal. That was a big pro – normalcy. Ever since the war, he had his friends had had no time for themselves. They were always working for others. Whether it was an assignment for the Aurors' office or a cameo interview for _Witch Weekly_, they now had to think about those outside of their immediate lives. It had been hard, and overwhelming. The introduction of Draco Malfoy, and the possibility that he might walk free brought back everything that Neville and his friends had sought to avoid. Malfoy would bring back the press and the assignments and the attention. Just when things were starting to finally calm down.

Neville continued to think as the trial ended, and the rust colored robes of him and his colleagues billowed out of the back door. The court of the Winzegamot was unceremoniously locked into another room, with the head Justices taking their seats at the front. He looked at the seven – Minister of Magic himself Kingsley Shaklebolt could really go either way. Everyone knew that he had a soft spot for Harry, but he still maintained a just and fair order at the Ministry. Then there was Percy Weasley – Undersecretary to the Minister, who would surely vote against Malfoy because of past family squabbles. Neville continued looking throughout the room, pegging each individual's vote. That's what it really came down to in these Winzegamot trials – who voted which way. The system was that there was an hour of discussion after the trial, and that each member of the court would vote. If the vote was a tie, it would be settled by the seven Justices, thus guaranteeing a verdict.

As the discussion commenced, Neville's answer became solidified. It was going to a close one. Kingsley believed Malfoy, while Percy was adamantly resistant. Neville kept flashing back to Ron's letter, Hermione's worried face, and the pros and cons list he had so deligently worked on during the trial's proceedings. One man who spoke up a lot was Xenophilius Lovegood. Neville had immediately written him off, considering that the Malfoys had imprisoned Luna during the war. However, Lovegood was beginning to advocate for Malfoy's gradual release back into society. He was arguing a half-verdict.

"I have heard enough from the Malfoy boy to put enough doubt into his actions" he started softly, "He has told us of his father's evil ways and those of his Lord. He has also told us how he reluctantly agreed to abide by all of these ways, as pain and discomfort it may have caused him. Finally, he tells us he is changed: he never wished for War or death, and that he had in fact never wanted Dumbledore's death. In my mind, I want to believe that the infamous Malfoy heir is reformed and no longer a threat to our now safe society. But I do not necessarily think we should write him off so easily. Let us consider his living conditions as of late. He has been living in Harry Potter's house – the _headquarters_ of the Order of the Phoenix, with Auror and war-hero Hermione Granger! He has had no wand, and no outside contact! How can we really be sure that Draco Malfoy – known supporter of Lord Voldemort – will not revert to his old ways as soon as he is given his wand and let out of his cage? We must watch him fellow Justices; give him a taste of freedom; before we can truly make an educated, informed, and fair decision."

That introduced an unprecedented third option on the table. For the first time in history, the verdict of this hearing was not just guilty or innocent, but come back in a few weeks. This caused some uproar in the chambers, but some seemed to align with the frazzled and nervous man. Kinglsey Shaklebolt was deep in thought as Percy Weasley – just as any other Weasley – flailed about the room, yelling about how unjust and unfair it would be give Draco Malfoy a second chance. Many sided with Weasley, as Draco Malfoy had caused so many problems for the Ministry of Magic as of late. Some seemed to digest Xenophilius Lovegood's proposition. Neville agreed that Lovegood did have a point. There was a doubt, that Malfoy had been pushed and forced, that he had never wanted it, and that he was sorry and reformed. But there was no way a final verdict could be sure of such a thing. The chambers chattered loudly for the next twenty minutes, but Neville remained silent in thought. His pros and cons list had to be changed. He had to consider alternative possibilities. His mind was on overload.

A small time in the front of the room lightly chimed five times, indicating that it was time to caste votes. Neville thought one more time of the past three hours of his life. He had three distinct options. Freedom, Azkaban, or reassessment.

Thinking inwardly, Neville knew he had decided long ago – perhaps still in the courtroom. It hadn't even been Ronald Weasley's letter that had brought him to this decision. In Neville's eyes, Draco Malfoy was still the boy he had been in Hogwarts, because that was the only person he knew him to be. Unlike Hermione and Harry had told him – he hadn't witnessed the changed Draco Malfoy. He only saw the emotionless boy walking across the hall, an evil smirk on his face. Neville had really known what his answer would have been all along. On the tiny slip of paper that had just magically appeared before him, he wrote in magical ink – _Azkaban._

ooooooooooo

Hermione Granger glanced at her watch for the fourth time. Harry put a hand on her wrist to steady her, "The bell has just chimed 'Mione, we'll know soon enough." Hermione couldn't understand what was going through her mind. On one hand, she was furious with Draco Malfoy, He had punched her in the gut, and as she was lying helpless, had kicked her. He had told her that all the hours she had put in to helping him were useless, that all of his advances were just for a shag, that she didn't matter to him. But she couldn't stomach the fear of losing him to Azkaban.

Hermione was slightly upset with herself for letting Draco Malfoy affect her the way that he did. Her and Draco had been romantically involved for a little over two weeks. She had no real attachment to him. They had only _snogged!_ She kicked herself for letting him get to her. She was Hermione Granger. She was strong. She didn't need a man! But Draco still affected her this way. Sure, she was upset and hurt about what he had said to her a few nights ago, and she still hadn't forgiven him. But she was still undeniably nervous. Draco could be going to _Azkaban_, and she didn't know if she was ok with that.

There was a hush that came over courtroom 3 as the Justices of the Winzegamot came back into the room. Draco was led back into the room and sat in his chair. Hermione could see only his back. The citizens whispered to themselves and waiting for Kingsley Shaklebolt to clear his throat and announce the verdict. The low rumble of the crowd soon died down as Kingsley began to straighten his robes. Hermione grasped Harry's hand and watch Draco visibly shiver.

"Citizens of Wizarding London, we have been called today to listen and rule the charges accused on one Draco Abraxas Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, consisting of aligning with Lord Voldemort and fighting against the Light. We have heard his case. He argues that he never truly wanted to be branded as a Death Eater, and that he only did such things to protect his life and that of his family and friends. As a court of Justices, we feel as though we have not heard enough." The courtroom erupted. The sound in Hermione's ears was deafening. People around her were screaming in fright, yelling in disagreement. All Hermione could do was squeeze Harry's hand.

Kingsley cleared his throat and pressed on, "In our proceedings, we discussed the notion of doubt. Mr. Malfoy's accounts have put enough doubt into our reasoning, that we would see it unfit to remand him to Azkaban Prison right away. However, we feel as though the conditions of his house arrest have not been conducive to assessing whether Mr. Malfoy would be ready to return to society. Therefore, our verdict – though very close called – is to grant Draco Malfoy a month-long period, living at 12 Grimmauld Place accompanied by Aurors, _with_ the use of a wand. After this month-long period, the Winzegamot court will reassess whether Mr. Malfoy was indeed forced into submission to the Dark Lord's wishes. Until then, the Winzegamot rests, and the court is adjourned."

Hermione released Harry's hand immediately. She felt as though a weight had been lifted off her. Draco was walking out of the courtroom. With a wand. For a two-week period. He would be reevaluated. There was hope. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't sit down! Draco had stood up now and was frantically looking through the crowd. He was looking for her. There was a fluttering in her stomach. She had to speak to him she had to be near him.

Hermione started hopping down the aisles of courtroom, down to the center, where Draco stood looking for her. She was halfway down when Draco found her. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Fire. Draco's eyes were on fire. She had never seen so much passion in his eyes. She rushed down the last few eyes, and practically threw herself at Draco. He held her tightly.

"Hermione. I never meant to hurt you. Please understand. I didn't want you do get hurt. I didn't want to leave you. I didn't want to be sad when I was gone. Please forgive me." His voice was hushed and urgent. He needed her. He was sorry. But none of that mattered now. They were together. Even though the courtroom buzzed around them, Hermione heard none of it. All she saw was smoldering silver. She then did the only thing that her body would allow her to do. She reached her hands up, taking Draco's face in her hands, and kissed him. And she was lost.

PS. The best kind of Christmas present is a review!


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